Reverberation
by Captain applesauce
Summary: Sequel to 'The Pain'. Once upon a time, he was a coldhearted murderer, but that was a different time, a different life, a different past. Sometimes, though, things come back around. Sometimes an echo remains even when the source is gone. Sometimes...
1. Entre Nous

_Chapter 1: Entre Nous _

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha. _

* * *

_Sooo…Back again…with a sequel. Mm…yeah._

_And guys? Thanks so much for all the love you showed my last story, and I'm so glad you enjoyed the Epilogue as much as I enjoyed writing it. Maybe this story won't be so bad, either, but we'll see. ; )_

* * *

_**This chapter is dedicated to Nekoreibaka**, who helped me develop my characters, and offered invaluable advice. She was also brave enough to deal with hours of my ramblings about this story and where the plot should go. I really appreciate it, Stephanie! _

* * *

_I keep on playin' my favorite song,  
Turn it up, while you're gone.  
It's all I've got when you're in my head,  
And you're in my head, so I need it._

_--"In My Head" by Queens of Stone Age_

* * *

'_He's late._' 

He nearly smiled at the irritation in the tone of his 'voice of _reason'_. '_Well…there's a first time for everything, I guess_,' was his reply. It wasn't long before music began to fill his head, blocking out the luxurious waiting area he was seated in and the coy glances of his uncle's new secretary.

It was a warm day outside—he could feel it even now inside this tower of black glass with its lush carpet. Eyes the same shocking shade as Topaz drifted close as he relaxed in the moderately comfortable chair with Beethoven's Fur Elise running softly through his mind, which was somewhere else at the moment. He'd always loved the outdoors—his parents had made sure of that, what with hunting trips, star gazing, swims in the closest rivers, and tree climbing. Not to say that he was completely out of his element when indoors or that he was even uncomfortable right now in his suit and tie, but it wasn't _him_. He tried to imagine the sun on his face, the wind brushing against his arms, the feel of the thick grass between his toes, all the while that haunting music played—

"I'm sure he'll be here shortly," a timid voice interrupted, shattering the peace he'd just found.

Hiroshi offered her a quick smile and sat a bit straighter to clear his head. He must have been humming along…

'_Business now, daydream later_,' he told himself firmly.

Tapping the large, manila envelope against metal arm of his chair, he tried to ignore the persistent peeks of the secretary as he waited for his uncle. It wasn't like the great Sesshoumaru to be late for anything, and he was on a tight schedule as it was. He had two more files to look into before he could even think about taking a late lunch—dinner, actually, and he had a test to cram for all night.

He felt a pair of eyes on him and turned to meet the young woman's brown-eyed gaze. She flushed and looked away, and he went back to tapping the envelope in his clawed hand.

"I really am very sorry about this," she said suddenly, chewing nervously on her bottom lip. "He said he had to step out for just a minute, but…"

"It's fine," he told her. "I understand."

She smiled bashfully at him, and he heard that damned voice that often broke into his thoughts scoff.

'_Look at her—_' it went on, '_no backbone at all. How long do you think she'll last before she cracks from the pressure?_'

His amber eyes flicked thoughtfully to her for a brief moment. She was still blushing uncomfortably while she typed away. He didn't fail to notice how often she was hitting the 'backspace' tab. '_You are so very negative._'

'_I'm a realist. She can't even fucking look at us without melting into a simpering heap of goo—_'

'_Arrogant, too_,' Hiro added silently, eyes falling back to the file in his hands.

'—_do you really think she's really ready to handle _Sesshoumaru Sesshoumaru_—the ice king—of all people?_'

'_Why does it even matter?_'

'…_It doesn't, I guess. But it's still sad. Look at her—she's _still_ blushing!_'

'_She's probably worried that the nephew of her new, intimidating boss is finding her incompetent,_' he thought back with a hint of dryness.

'_...Oh. You're making a funny. That's cute._'

He suppressed a sharp sigh, glancing at his wristwatch. Five more minutes. He'd give his uncle five more minutes to show, and then he was leaving this for another time. '_Then stop judging people you don't know._'

'_You are absolutely _no_ fun. You know that? What a prude_,' it scoffed, and he scowled.

'_I am _not_ a prude._'

Laughter. '_Oh yeah? When was the last time you even _thought_ about kissing a girl? _You_, Hiroshi Takenawa, are a _prude'

With a sigh, he blanked his face and closed his eyes again, melting back in his chair as he let the music take him again. '_Mk, whatever you say._'

'See_? You're really goddamn irritating sometimes. For fuck's sake—I tell you you're a prude, and you say 'whatever'! Life would be a lot more interesting for both of us if you'd ever argue!_'

Hiroshi bit back an irritated sigh as his eyes cracked open again—the secretary quickly looked away. Now that he thought about it, he always had been more reasonable than the voice that was supposed to speak reason to him—at least, that's what his father had told him its purpose was. Honestly, he believed it was an opposite meant to 'complete' him because it had yet to suggest anything short of irrational to _him_. Many times it bordered on violent and cruel…

And it had called him_ prude_…

Suddenly, he leaned forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his thighs as he flashed a knowing grin at the now flustered brunette. "So how are things going for you here? You're new, right?"

She picked up a pen to give her hands something to do and promptly dropped it. "Oh," she murmured, startled still, "Y-yes, sir—"

"—You don't have to call me 'sir'. Hiroshi Takenawa."

"A-alright… I know who you are, sir—I mean…" Her blush deepened as she trailed off, and his grin widened. Then she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and when she opened them again, she looked much more together--collected. "I'm Saeko Nakai. And I like it here, I suppose. It's…different."

'S_top talking to her. She's getting on my last damn nerve._'

"Different doesn't always mean better," he pointed out, and she smiled at him, leaning forward to rest an elbow on her oak desk, cupping her chin in her palm.

"No," she agreed quietly. "But I really am enjoying working here. I just feel like it's taking me too long to get the hang of it."

'…_I see what's going on. This is my punishment for calling you prude, is it?_'

'_No, you _need_ to learn some goddamn manners. You're being ridiculous—she's not that bad._'

'_Her _voice_…my _ears' it begged dramatically, and Hiroshi refrained from rolling his eyes at himself.

'_You don't even have ears,_' he reminded it. "What about Sesshoumaru? Are you getting on with him?"

"Yeah, he, ah…he's…" she blushed again, and Hiroshi wondered if he should introduce her to Miroku—they'd get along great, more than likely. He wondered who would talk first, if that should happen. "He's kind of scary," she finally managed to squeak, embarrassedly.

Chuckling, he shook his head lazily. "He's not that bad, but I suppose he can be a bit daunting, huh?"

It was then that the door burst open, scaring the poor girl half to death, and the great youkai strolled in as coolly as ever.

"Speak of the devil," Hiroshi muttered with a small smile.

'_And he will come_,' the voice agreed.

Sesshoumaru lifted a single elegant brow as he approached his secretary's desk, grabbing a post-it note she held out for him. "Am I to assume you are speaking of me?"

"It's a possibility."

A ghost of a smirk flickered across his lips as he stared at the names and numbers of the calls he'd missed. "I am flattered. I was compared to God, once, but I must admit—the Devil was a much more interesting character."

"Then that's not the right comparison for you—you're boring as shit."

Sesshoumaru rolled his eyes toward the ceiling when his brother stalked through the opened door. Inuyasha tweaked Hiroshi's ear as he passed. "'Sup, pup? What are you still doing here? Thought you had some big test you needed to study for."

Ear still flicking, he stood to smirk at his father. "Waiting on Uncle, which is a first for me," he mused, staring at the said youkai.

Gold and silver gleamed all around the room, and the brown-eyed secretary, forgotten, could only watch in awe as they argued and teased. "Oi—you keep my pup from acing his test, I'll have your ass, you bastard."

"Mm," Sesshoumaru hummed, nodding to the speechless woman, before leading the way to his office. "It is most inconvenient, his education. Yet he insists on finishing college when he has a perfectly decent job waiting for him here."

"I've only got one more year," he defended with a raised brow. "I'm not so sure I understand why you're pushing me on this."

Seating himself silently, the Inu no Taisho leaned back into his seat and steepled his fingers, gold clashing against gold as they studied each other.

Inuyasha settle against a wall with a "keh!".

"I am 'pushing' you on this because it is serious. I am holding this position open for you, you realize, and as a result, I am short-handed at the moment. Yes, you come to work, but it is only part-time. And that's not quite good enough, Hiroshi."

His eyes hardened as he stood facing his uncle, and a streak of his father's pride shot through him. "I don't remember asking you to hold this job for me. Just because we're blood—"

"Do not be foolish, pup," Sesshoumaru warned, hands falling to fold on the desk before him. "This has nothing to do with our being related. You, of all people, should know that. Your talents are telling enough of why the position remains unfilled."

With a sigh, Hiroshi closed his eyes and took a deep breath, instantly feeling a calm rush over him. "All right. But I _want_ to finish school. I'm so close, already—just wait a little bit longer. I'll put in more hours, but I'm not—"

"Damn right, you're not."

"Father, let me handle—"

"Hiroshi," Inuyasha warned. "You're not taking his shit."

"Fine," Sesshoumaru interrupted with a sigh. "I've grown tired of this conversation. What do you have to show me, Hiroshi?"

All arguing and teasing aside, the father and son were nothing if not grave now, and Hiroshi stepped forward pulling out the manila envelope he'd tucked under his arm earlier and handing it to his boss. Sesshoumaru opened it quickly, silently, and pulled out the papers, dropping four photos of a butchered woman onto his desk. His face never changed, and Hiroshi continued. "4:20 a.m.—a Miss Hisae Orikasa, age 19, was discovered in the alley between Paddy's Irish Pub and Hataka's Tattoo Parlor 6.3 miles east of here. According to the human authorities, she had multiple knife wounds, up to and including near-decapitation. Upon further inspection, I discovered that they are _not_ knife wounds, but rather injuries sustained from a youkai with claws. Possibly a badger or a raccoon. While visiting the scene of death, I determined that there were two youkai involved; however, only one participated in actually committing the murder of the human. The other—assuredly some type of fire youkai—remained a spectator, and the smell in the alley suggests that he pleasured himself while the girl was tortured," he stated without missing a beat, ignoring the vicious growls of his father. "I have found no evidence implying remorse and suggest the immediate pursuit and eradication of both youkai."

Sesshoumaru's unreadable gaze of ice flicked from his nephew to his brother. Otherwise he remained a motionless statue, seated ramrod straight in his plush leather chair, hands folded on the desk as he lifted his chin proudly. "Understood. Inuyasha?"

The hanyou—still looking every bit as furious as he ever had when some young girl was killed so brutally—bristled before leering sadistically at the Taisho. "I'm fucking all over it," he growled, cracking his knuckles with obscene confidence. "I'll even find these bastards myself."

"That is fine. Is that all?"

"I am still unsure as to whether or not this is connected, but Miss Orikasa is the daughter of Masato Orikasa—founder of—"

"Orikasa Finances, I am well aware…"

"I have already followed their scents. It cuts off in the subway station downtown once they boarded."

His brows furrowed for a brief moment before he schooled his features once more. "I see. Inuyasha, visit the alley and get their scent. Remember it well. This must be taken care of quickly—the human police will not allow the girl's death to go unpunished. Her father stands too high in their society, so this must be handled delicately. Take two of your men with you."

The hanyou grunted.

He sighed, and his eyes slipped close. "That will do for now, Hiroshi. Find out what you can about the two youkai, and let me know."

"Right. I'm out, then." He nodded goodbye to his father as he started for the door. "Keep me posted. I'll be in tomorrow at noon."

Inuyasha watched him go before his hard gaze fell on his brother, a fire smoldering somewhere in the distance of his amber eyes. And when he spoke, his voice was quiet and firm, an unexpected change that left the inu youkai hanging on each word that slipped from his mouth. "He's not going to willingly change his mind, Sesshoumaru. And he wants this—you heard him. So if I find out that he's dropped out of that damned school, I'm coming for _your_ ass. Leave him alone."

"As long as you realize furthering the pursuit of his education is meaningless at this point."

Turning on his heel, he made to follow his boy out the door, calling over his shoulder, "I really couldn't care less, Sesshoumaru. But he's never asked for much, and even if I can't understand why he cares so much about that stupid school, it still stands that he does. So I'll say it again: Leave him the fuck alone." He closed the door behind him, leaving that bastard alone to contemplate a potential beat-down he might be receiving in the near future.

Kagome had always been excited about that damned school, too, back when she went. He couldn't figure out why, though—maybe it was some big joke he missed out on because he never went, but it was enough that it was something she had enjoyed. It seemed Hiro got his eagerness to learn from his mother.

But in all reality—he was nothing like her. Or _him_, for that matter, and he still, for the life of him, couldn't figure out how Hiroshi was so…good. That was definitely Kagome's influence, he knew, but…still. He was polite to everyone, friendly to everyone, and it seemed that the older he got, the less he swore. And for the last year, he hadn't heard him utter a single bad word in front of his mother or younger sister.

It was just weird.

Don't get me wrong, Hiroshi had the occasional, if not frequent, fights with his younger brother, but Inuyasha knew that it was all pretense. He had no doubt that the pup would lay his life down on the line for any one of them.

But he was still far from perfect, and Inuyasha knew he had to work to be as kind and patient as he was. He'd seen it in his eyes, hadn't he? Every day was a struggle, but the pup made the sacrifices necessary because he'd seen the alternative, and it had scared him.

Turns out that 'restraint' and 'Hiroshi' were pretty much synonymous.

* * *

Slinging his leather satchel into the back seat of his SUV with one hand, Hiroshi used his other to pull down the visor, snatching the falling keys out of the air before they could hit his lap. It was Friday—'_and thank God for that_,' he thought as he turned the ignition, backing out of his parking space before pulling out of the crowded University lot. 

'_So…violence in children, hn?_'

He was thoughtfully silent as he drove out of habit, heading for his office while he carefully reviewed each question on his Criminology test. '_I did well on it,_' he finally stated. His hand began to search the passenger's seat for a CD case he'd tossed there earlier. Pulling it into his lap, he unzipped it and grabbed the first disk he saw.

'_I'll bet._'

He frowned, pushing a CD into the player and leaning back in his seat, barely registering the first fast-paced notes of 'Il Barbiere di Siviglia'. '_And just what the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?_'

'_Mm,' _it hummed smugly, but otherwise ignored him. '_I wonder if the old man's found anything else about those youkai bastards._'

His suppressed aggravation with his conscience vanished completely when the mangled body of that poor girl ran through his mind; his hands tightened on the steering wheel. That alley had reeked of blood and tears and death. And then there was the overwhelming stench of animalistic fear that left her nails torn as she'd scrambled at the pavement below her in a pathetic attempt to escape.

He had no doubt that they'd laughed at her while she cried and bled. Hell, one of them even got off—

'_Well, look at you…_' the voice praised mockingly, '_getting all angry and shit. Just when I was starting to think it impossible to ruffle your feathers. If I'd known all I had to do was talk about _dead_ girls—_'

Jaw setting at the callous words, Hiroshi glared at the road ahead of him, but it had always been this way. '_You really are a sadistic bastard, you know that?_'

He could practically feel the grin, taste it, and bile rose in the back of his throat. '_I'm _you_, love._'

Stopping at a red light, the hanyou took the opportunity to roll down his window for some fresh air. Well—as fresh as the air in downtown Tokyo can get, anyway… The polluted air stung his nose, but the small discomfort was refreshing after the stifling prison his jeep had just become.

'_Look_,' it finally sighed, relenting grudgingly, '_That dead girl comment was a bit much—_'

'_A bit?_'

'_I'll behave._' It didn't say anything after that, and Hiro released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He could almost smell that same diluted scent—the fire youkai, his semen spilled in the streets while his partner tore into the girl again and again and—

'_Hiro…let _me_ handle those thoughts. You just…Oi! You smell that?_' it barked, jarring him from the gruesome image.

He never would have noticed it if his nose hadn't been training for this type of occasion for years now. It was subtle, weak and mixed with the scents of thousands of others; it had even been tempered by last night's rainfall, the scent barely wafting before cutting off completely.

So it was coming from inside a store, hm?

'_You gotta pay more attention than that, Hiro,_' it growled. "_If I hadn't noticed—_'

'_If you hadn't distracted me_—' Hiro reminded as he quickly pulled his car to the side, veering into the closest available parking space.

It ignored him, suddenly vigilante as he slipped out of the black Jeep. '_Other side of the street._'

Locking the doors behind him, he shoved the keys in his pocket and jogged across the crosswalk. He stopped on the sidewalk, staring at all the stores before him. '_Which one?_'

'_Check the jewelry store first. Maybe he was pawning some of her—no…scent is too old for that._'

'_This happened before the murder,_' he agreed.

'…_Maybe she wasn't the first. Oh, fuck it, just check!_' it bit out.

Brows furrowing, he reached for the door handle, pushing it open. His ears twitched when the 'ding' of the bell sounded above him, but nothing else hit him. No fire youkai was here.

He checked the grocery store beside it, but once again, there was no lingering youkai scent. He got the same result from the barbershop next door, too. And this pattern continued for the other two stores on this particular sidewalk.

He frowned. '_I _know_ I didn't imagine it._'

'_Keep going North._'

Crossing another crosswalk, he started searching for that elusive scent again, freezing when he started to pass an American style diner, fairly uncommon in downtown Tokyo…

He'd only been to one once before when Miroku, Rei, and he spent two weeks in Big Timber, Montana the summer before—the first and only time he'd ever been to the United States. It was…kind of dull. But peaceful.

'_Snap the fuck out of it,_' the voice interrupted, shattering his memories of the mountains. '_The youkai was in there._'

Pushing his way through the door, he smiled wryly when the faint scent hit his nose. At least three days old, he realized, bowing his head apologetically when the old woman behind the bar raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Go ahead and take a seat—anywhere you'd like," she told him, waving him away with a hand as she poured a cup of coffee with another and passed it to the man on the barstool.

He took another deep breath, taking in more of the faded youkai before he slipped into one of the questionably safe booths that lined the walls. Taking a quick glance around, he noticed that there were only five other customers besides himself in the old diner—all of which were men.

Rolling his eyes as one made a rude comment to the only waitress that appeared to be on the job, he pulled out his cell.

"_Oi, pup—where are you?"_ his father asked in lieu of greeting.

"I'm at…"—he glanced at the menu for confirmation—"Anne's Diner"

"…_I'm assuming there's a reason for that…"_

"Well, yes. Were you able to catch the scent of those youkai?" he hissed into the phone, an ear trained on his surroundings at all times.

"_Keh! Course I was."_

"Just making sure. I made a pit stop today when I smelled one of them—"

"_Which one?"_ he barked, and Hiroshi winced.

"Fire."

"_Fuck. Anne's Diner was it?"_

"He's obviously not here, Father. The scent is older than that of the—hold on a sec…" He laid the cell on the table to smile at the black-haired waitress that was stalking toward him with a frown, which disappeared once she could feel his eyes on her.

"What would you like, sir?" she asked with a smile, brushing a black curl behind her ear.

"I know what I'd like," a man called out loudly, crudely, before he and his friend burst into laughter. Her face flushed as she worked to ignore them. She'd slipped back into that irritated scowl for a brief moment.

"Are you alright?" Hiro asked, and she smiled at him.

"Nothing I can't handle," she told him. "Most customers aren't like this, but sometimes…" she sighed, pulling out her pen to write down his order.

"Just a coffee, please."

She looked surprised—probably by his manners. "Just coffee? You sure you wouldn't like something to eat? Our apple pie is fantastic."

He almost grinned. She was American—obviously. "No, thank you. Coffee's fine."

"Alright then."

He waited until she was near the bar before he picked his cell up again. "Still there?"

"_Yes,"_ the inu hanyou growled grumpily. _"I took a fucking nap while you were away though."_

"Sorry about that," he murmured, glancing over his shoulder at the waitress. She was still behind that horribly turquoise bar. "Just wanted to let you know I smelled him. His scent is old—three days, I think, so you're better off following him from the alley—which is futile, I know."

There was a sigh. _"So the point of all this…?"_

"Well," he began, picking at a tear in the seat cushion, "the diner I'm in… Looks like it doesn't get many customers. Maybe I can get an identification or a receipt even, if he used a credit card."

"_Mm. We're not that lucky."_

"Right. Well, I'll be there in about an hour, I suppose."

"_Fine. Sesshoumaru's shitting a brick over here, just so you know. Be prepared for another go at the old education-is-useless routine. See you around."_

"Later," he agreed, flipping his cell shut with a frown and stuffing it into his pocket just as the waitress came back from behind the bar with two plates full of "afternoon delight" as the menu called it.

He grimaced, listening to the two men chuckling as she neared, and looked over his shoulder in time to see the bolder man's hand brush over the waitress's backside. She froze before snapping her head down to glare at the two grinning men.

The ire that darkened her face was so great, that Hiroshi was amazed when she forced out an unconvincing smile, throwing down the two plates with a little more force than necessary.

A sausage rolled onto the floor.

"Hey!" the man started to complain before grinning up at her again. "You gonna replace that, sunshine?"

"Let me get right on that, sir," she muttered stiffly, leaving them to their comments of other things she could 'get right on'.

'_Oh, hell,_' Hiro sighed, scooting out of the booth. Taking a moment to make sure she had gone into the back kitchen, he walked up to the two men, now eating their food as they told jokes amongst themselves.

"Excuse me."

They looked up at him, gave him a once over before they started snickering again. "Yeah?"

"I was hoping to discuss that waitress with you."

He didn't miss the look they shot at each other. "Oh you were, were you?"

"Yes. I was wondering if you treated all women that way. It's pretty chauvinistic, actually."

The one that had grabbed her ass barked out a loud jarring laugh. "Is that so? And who the hell are _you_ to say this to me? You come over here in your vintage jeans and brown leather jacket—hair dyed silver—you must really think you something big, don't you?"

Hiro raised his eyebrows and smiled pleasantly. "I don't think that at all. I'm just saying…this is the twenty-first century; we aren't Neanderthals anymore. Women are to be treated with respect—especially women you don't know."

He could practically hear the voice in the back of his mind gagging.

"Look, _Pretty Boy_," the bolder one began, running a hand over his thick jaw. "Why don't you just mind your own business, and walk your narrow ass back over to _your_ table. You can _have_ the waitress once we're done with her."

His countenance grew cold, and he leaned down, placing a hand on both men's shoulders. "We are all grown men. I'm sure we can reach some sort of understanding…"

The man stared in horror at the hand when Hiroshi flexed it, tightening his grip. "Ow,_ow_! Holy _hell_, that _hurts_!"

"Let _go_!"

His hands bit down more fiercely, and he could feel his thumb dig under the clavicle, prying it up. But he minded his claws. Last thing he wanted was _their_ reeking blood on _his_ claws. "So we have an understanding then?"

"Fucking _yes_! Just _let_ _go_!"

He pulled his hands away and smiled at them. "Okay, so you're both going to be polite and respectful when she comes out of that kitchen to bring you your sausage. You're going to say thank you, and you're going to eat it—I don't care if she spit on it, or dropped on the floor or in the toilet. You're also going to _like_ it. And after you finish your meal, you'll tell her it was delicious, thank her again, and walk out of this diner after leaving her a big tip. …Right?"

The man glared at him, but flinched away when Hiroshi reached for his shoulder again. "Fine," he snapped, holding his arm gingerly.

"Good. Well, have a good day then, and enjoy your meal. I'll be back over if I think there's trouble." He nodded to his own booth before nodding to both of them and walking away.

He had just settled back into his seat when the door to the kitchen opened, and that waitress came out with a small plate—a single sausage resting on it, and—

'_Hm. She didn't do anything to it._'

Hiroshi shrugged, staring at his hands against the white of the table, an ear trained on the two men at all times. He smiled when they stammered out a 'thank you', which earned a shocked 'you're welcome?'

'_You're unbelievable, you know?_' the voice began tiredly. '_You go out of your way to appear more diplomatic and noble—a fucking tree-hugger, you are. I know you wanted to rip their throats out._'

'_Because that's an option,_' he snapped back sarcastically. '_Let's murder two fairly innocent men in the middle of a goddamn diner!_'

'…_Why don't you get angry more often? You're so much more fun this way.'_

'_Fuck you._'

'_If you don't take a mate soon, I may take you up on that offer._'

He had just made the decision to ignore it and let his blood cool, Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata' drifting and weaving through his mind, when the young waitress set his coffee in front of him.

"There you go."

He smiled up at her. "Thank you."

"Are you sure you don't want anything else?"

He grabbed a few packets of sugar, and began to stir them into his coffee. "Actually, I'm looking for someone and wanted to ask a few questions—do you have time?"

"I don't—" She paused and glanced around the small diner. Other than the old woman behind the bar—probably 'Anne', he noted—only those two men remained, and they were pulling away from their plates now. She stared at them a few moments before biting her lip and nodding. "Sure. Let me just take care of these two really quick, and then I can answer your questions."

"That would be great. Oh, and you said the apple pie is good, right?"

She nodded, and he smiled again. "Then I'll have two slices, please."

She'd just left when his phone rang. He glanced briefly at the name that flashed across the screen before flipping it open.

"Aren't you supposed to be in class right now?"

"_So fucking nice to talk to you, too_," Kannon muttered dryly.

"What do you want?"

There was a pause on the other end, and Hiroshi knew his brother was thinking over the question. _"Well…a chick would be nice, and so would some concert tickets, but…just letting you know, I'm coming over later."_

Hiro pulled the phone away from his twitching ear to frown at it. "You never call before coming over," he drawled suspiciously. "You just show up and eat all of my food."

"_And you love me for it."_

"That's debatable."

"_Anyway…thanks for getting me out of class, Old Man,"_ Kannon said a louder, more dramatically, and he winced away from the receiver when his brother broke into a fit of coughs. _"I just don't want to make anyone else sick, you know? It might be contagious. Hold on while I check and see if you have to okay it with the Assistant Principal."_

His brows furrowed as he realized what his younger brother was doing. "Oh, there is absolutely _no_ way in hell I'm helping you cut cl—"

"_Hello? Is this Mr. Takenawa?"_

Rolling his eyes, he slumped further into the booth. "Yes?" It wasn't an outright lie…

"_Kannon has been telling me that he's sick again, but I must say, his school record shows that he's out of class more than he's in it."_

"He's a…" Hiro closed his eyes and sighed, trying to ward off a developing headache. "a sick boy," he bit out irritably. "Just send him on home. His mother's already setting up a doctor's appointment, but I'm sure he'll be fine by tomorrow. He can make up for the classes he's missed this week over the weekend."

"_That sounds like a great idea. I'll expect him tomorrow then. Here, Kannon would like to speak with you again."_

He knew the exact moment his brother had possession of the phone, he could hear it groaning under his tight grip as he crossed the room for a bit of privacy. _"What did you do?"_ he hissed sharply. _"__**Why**__ is she expecting me tomorrow?"_

"To make up for the classes you're going to miss today, of course."

"…_You are such an ass, Hiro!"_ he whispered, his tone promising violence later._"Tomorrow is __**Saturday**__!"_

"Yes…I'm aware of that." He smiled a thanks at the waitress when she put the two small plates in front of her, pushing one plate across the table and motioning for her to sit.

He sighed when she slid into the seat—Kannon was being a dipshit again.

"_I'm sure you are—"_

"You should be grateful I helped you at all, dragging me into—"

"—_A Saturday, Hiro!_" he whined. _"I'm going to have to go to school on a fucking _Saturday_!"_

"You shouldn't be cutting class anyway—not as often as you do, at least. But look, the best thing you can do is just suck it up, and get over it. You asked me to get you out of class, and I did. For today. I've got to go now."

"_Don't hang up on me, you dou—"_ His profanity was cut short when Hiro snapped his phone shut, setting it on the table before pulling his plate closer.

"Sorry about that."

"Don't be," she told him, picking up her fork thoughtfully before finally taking a bite of the dessert. "Brother?"

Hiro sighed, grabbing his own fork. "How'd you know?" he muttered.

She laughed. "I have one, too."

"They can't all be as bad as mine."

She hummed a 'Not-so-sure-about-that' before turning back to the food before her. "Thanks for the pie, by the way. I've had a bad day."

He took a bite, and nodded. "Hey, no problem. Thanks for using your break to answer my questions. And this _is_ very good pie…"

She pushed another lock of curls behind her ear. "You sound surprised. I told you it was good."

Hiro glanced at his watch; he had a minute for small talk he supposed. Make the 'witness' less nervous, though it'd probably help if he could just remember to ask questions rather than interrogate her, as he was apt to do. "Did you make it?"

She laughed again, and he smiled, taking another bite. "I'll take that as a 'no'."

"A big one," she agreed. "I'm a terrible cook. My specialty lies in cold sandwiches—Grilled Cheese on a good day."

"…Grilled Cheese isn't bad," he allowed slowly, and she gave him a look that nearly had him grinning.

"You've clearly never had my grilled cheese," she muttered under her breath before dropping an elbow on the table, her other still busy with squishing her pie to mush with her fork before she'd eat some more. "So…what did you want to ask me?"

He sighed and pushed his plate away before staring at her in a blunt, piercing way that he was sure made her feel awkward, so he tried to soften his expression. It must have worked because she went back to mushing her pie. "Well, like I said, I'm looking for someone."

She frowned, carefully putting her fork down on her plate before pushing her plate aside as well to fold her hands on the table top. "I don't know many names. We only have a handful of regulars," she told him quietly. "So I don't know if I'll be able to help you…"

'_This is fucking useless, isn't it?_' the voice asked, bitter disappointment laced in the angry words.

"I was wondering if you remembered anyone strange coming into the diner on Tuesday?"

Her frown deepened, and she stared thoughtfully out the window. "Tuesday…" she repeated absently. "I don't think—"

"A man. Probably red hair. …He may have died it, but it should be red."

"There was a red-haired man, yes," she finally told him after a moment. "But he's been here a couple of times before."

"Yes—that's great, perfect," he told her, beaming, and she forced a smile in return, grabbing her fork to play with the remainder of her pie.

"And then there's my brother," she told him quietly. "_He_ has red hair."

"I'm not looking for your brother," he assured her, and she let out a deep breath of air.

"Good," she sighed, before studying him thoughtfully. "You're probably with the police, aren't you? The police or the mafia, one. And neither is good when Jackson's concerned…"

He laughed at her light tone. "I'm neither."

"But then again, if you were, you might not tell me."

"But then again, I might not," he agreed nonchalantly. "I suppose you could call me a reconnaissance man."

Her lips tilted into another lopsided smile. "A spy? Like James Bond?"

He chuckled again, and peered at her over the rim of his coffee mug. "No. But tell me about this red-haired man."

"Well…he had red hair, like I said. But not that normal brownish-orange, like Jackson's…his was like…" She looked around the room, searching his body, the wall, for any way to describe it. She ended up grabbing the ketchup bottle. "Like ketchup."

His smile was indulgent. "I see…"

"It was," she protested, brows furrowed. "He must have dyed it or someth—"

"Oh, I believe you," he quickly assured her. "I was amused by your analogy, though. Is there anything else you remember? How he dressed, what direction he came from? Was he with anyone? Did he say anything?"

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment. "His clothes were…nice, I suppose. A real leather jacket, like yours, but his was black. And _he_ seemed greasy," she told him as she tried to work out how best to describe him. "Like…you'd expect auto-mechanics from the past to look. But I don't think he was a mechanic."

"But he looked like one," Hiroshi repeated to clarify.

Her frown deepened, and he could smell her frustration. "No, not exactly. He reminded me a bit of the Greasers from _The Outsiders_—a book I read when I was a kid."

"So he was…a Greaser?"

"No."

Hiro sighed, feeling his patience coming undone, and the voice in the back of his head started snickering. "Okay then, just…just tell me everything you remember."

"He had some tattoos—" that got his attention— "I couldn't really see it, but it must have been big, maybe covering his chest, but I couldn't tell. It peeked through the collar of his shirt—just at the base of his neck. It was black. Maybe tribal marks…or something…?"

"What about the length of his hair?"

"Pretty short. Not really shaggy, but not shaved either. And he was alone. He did answer his cell when it rang once, though—no defining tune, really. Just ringing. And I didn't hear what he said. Sorry."

"No, you've been a great help," he assured her. "You didn't see which direction he went in, did you? A car he might have gotten into?"

"No, I didn't."

He hummed in the back of his throat. "How old did he look?"

"Around…twenty five, maybe?"

"Did he pay with cash or credit?"

She smiled wryly. "Cash."

Hiroshi sighed again. "And you said he's been here before?

Her shorter hair fell over her shoulders when she nodded. "That was his third time in…about three months, I suppose. But don't quote me on that."

He reached into his pockets, pulling out a small wad of money and a piece of paper. "May I see your pen, please?"

Quickly grabbing the pen from her apron pocket, she handed it to him, watching as he scrawled a number across the back of some business card. "Alright… These are my cell and office numbers. The moment he comes back, I want you to call me—this is really important. Even more importantly, leave the diner when you make the call. Pretend you're going outside to smoke or—"

"—I don't smoke—"

"—something. I'm being serious about this, alright?" he asked, meeting her eyes with a sudden gravity that belied his sweet smile from earlier. "Do not call me if you're in the same building as he is. If he hears you, well…" He winced, and she paled. "I suppose I don't have to tell you he's dangerous?"

"I suppose you already have," she managed with a tepid smile.

"I'm sorry to drag you into this, but you've been a tremendous help."

She took the paper and pen he offered, but refused the money. "It's on the house. You were polite, and, well…thanks." She read the card, and he slid the money under the plate. "Kenta Asano, hm?"

He smiled and shook his head, sliding out of the booth. "Not my card," he clarified before offering his hand. "Hiroshi Takenawa. Nice to meet you…" he glanced at her white, plastic name tag "Julia."

"We'll have to do this again sometime," she teased weakly, following him out of the booth and taking his hand for a quick shake. She turned to collect the dirty dishes. "I've never been interrogated by a spy from the mafia before. It made me appreciate my pie—knowing that I could be 'whacked' at any moment." She shot him a dry glance. "I'm not going to get 'whacked', am I? I'm blaming you if I do."

Grinning, he shoved his hands into his pocket, as he turned and headed for the door. "We'll see."

"That's a joke, right?"

With a lazy wave, he left the building.

"Oh, no—You left your money—" she called after him, but he'd already faded into the crowd outside. With a sigh, she picked up the notes and counted them, eyes widening as she did so. "…Oh _great_…I really _am_ going to get 'whacked'" she muttered, shoving the money into the pocket of her generic blue waitress dress. "Happy Birthday to me."

She smiled.

* * *

_Guess who's in the next chapter! Kannon! Woot! And that cutie, Miroku. I still don't have this story 100 percent planned out, so bear with me while I try to get a feel of it. I have a destination, but still working on the best way to get there. Hope you enjoyed it!_

_Entre Nous - (Fr.) Between us _

* * *

**_Quotes of Randomness: _**

_"'Tis an old saying, the Devil lurks behind the cross. All is not gold that glitters. From the tail of the plough, Bamba was made King of Spain; and from his silks and riches was Rodrigo cast to be devoured by the snakes." --Don Quixote by Miguel Cervantes_

_What's with this sudden choice of disorders we get right now? When I was a kid, we just had crazy people. That's it, just crazy people. -- Ellen DeGeneres__  
_


	2. Family Affair

_Chapter 2: Family Affair_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha_

* * *

_I lie for only you.  
And I lie well,  
Halleluh. _

_- "The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows" by Brand New_

* * *

**_Reviews:_**

_Inuyasha and Kagome will be woven into this story, but they are not the main characters. And at the moment, I have more plans with Inuyasha, who's pretty crucial to the story. He's always been Hiroshi's hero, and he's always been obscenely protective of his family in that 'tough love' kind of way._

_Thank you so much for the reviews! They really do inspire more writing. I'm glad you're all enjoying the story so far. Love to all!  
_

* * *

"…_You involved a human."_

_Hiroshi sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he slumped back in his chair, his uncle staring at him. "Yes."_

_Sesshoumaru glanced down at the photos on his desk before casting his eyes back towards his nephew, his brows furrowed as he struggled to grasp the situation. It wasn't that often that Hiroshi pulled an Inuyasha. "…A young woman."_

"_Yes."_

"_Like the one they murdered," his uncle finished._

_His hand twitched involuntarily against the cool metal arm of the chair. "…Yes."_

_Exhaling slowly, Sesshoumaru stood and gathered the pictures before he made his way around his desk to the chair the young man was sitting in. He flung the images of the bloody, naked, dead woman in his lap. "You were beyond foolish. You are not to be seen or heard if possible—what you did went well beyond that."_

_He kept his eyes off the photos—it wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. "I'm seen and heard all the time, Sesshoumaru," he snapped, swiping up the pictures that covered his lap once the Tai Youkai had turned away from him to approach the tall bay window that overlooked the city._

_The youkai glanced at him over his shoulder. "Only by those whose fates are sealed. You are to be a shadow outside of these walls when on the job. You _know_ this."_

"_So I made conversation with a—"_

"_Made conversation?" Hiroshi could see the youkai's humorless smirk in the reflection of the glass. "It rather sounds like she was cross-examined to me."_

"_It was not that bad, Uncle. She handled it exceptionally well, actually, and I did not tell her that the man I was looking for was a murderer."_

"_No. You did not." He turned back around to look down at his nephew as he made his way back from the window. "You merely told her he was an extremely dangerous man with a heightened sense of hearing."_

"_I did not say that," he denied firmly, sitting up a bit straighter._

"_It was implied. Hiroshi," he began, a weary exasperation dripping into his tone, as he sat again, steepling his fingers in front of his nose. "What is the _one_ rule I gave you? Under _no circumstances_ are you to bring attention to those that _never existed_. And once we find these youkai…"_

_The hanyou frowned, but relented with a nod of his head. "You're right. It won't happen again."_

"_See that it doesn't. You are excused."_

'_Hah!'_ the voice laughed derisively as he pulled onto the dirt road. '_What a _shit_ day._'

'…_It could have been better_,' he finally admitted, rubbing an eye with the heel of his palm.

'_Yeah,_' it snorted. '_It could have._'

Eyes reflexively darting to his left, he saw that nobody was at his parents' house—but then again, he hadn't expected anyone to be there, either. He'd left work early—Kannon wouldn't even be out of school yet if he hadn't skipped—after Sesshoumaru had dismissed him. He hadn't been pleased at the blatant disapproval, but of course, his uncle was right. He'd been given only one rule, and that was to do everything in his power to keep attention away from those being hunted as he used whatever source available to get the information he needed. The MacGyver of investigation, Miroku called him.

He smiled. Miroku_ would_ know who MacGyver was…

Now he had this waitress looking for a youkai already labeled dead. Not even dead, really—once Sesshoumaru gets a hold of him, he'll never have existed in the first place. Only memories of those close to him would remain—but memories grow thin and fade away on a long enough time scale.

Pulling to a stop in his dirt driveway, he grinned when he saw his cousin sitting on his porch, his back against the door. He pulled the keys out of the ignition, slid it under the visor, and got out, closing the door behind him. "You know…you could have let yourself in," he offered in lieu of a greeting, and Miroku smiled, cracking open an eye and lifting a lazy hand to pin his wavy bangs out of his way.

"Eh. It's a nice day out, anyway."

With shorter, shaggy, flaming red hair, closer to Ayame's hue than his own father's carrot orange, Miroku always had the tendency to stand out in the crowd—a tendency that conflicted impossibly with his reticent personality. The hanyou detested any sort of attention, and—twenty-one years old—he still had trouble talking to girls without stammering, even though he was surrounded by them at home.

Hiroshi nudged the corner of the doormat up after Miroku climbed back to his feet, and fished the key off the floor. He made quick work of the lock and stashed the key back where it belonged. "What are you doing off work so early?"

There was a groan as the hanyou followed him inside, shutting the door behind him. "I got another challenge at work—a new game. Had to test it out."

"Wait—" he interrupted with a grin, shrugging out of the light, leather jacket, and hanging it on the closet door knob. "Let me try to guess what all you said. Was the word…_'pussy'_ involved at all?"

Another groan. "Ye-e-es. God—I _swear_ I don't know I'm saying it until it's already out there for everyone to hear. And my boss's_ wife_ was there—with her _children_—"

Walking towards the kitchen, Hiro bit back his grin, and tried to be a bit more understanding. Of course, it was hysterical the first time this had happened. But this was turning into a weekly ritual, and he was positive the kitsune hanyou would have been fired by now for his inappropriate comments if he wasn't so good at what he did—which was video game design, naturally.

"Needless to say, she wasn't amused," Miroku called from the living room. He heard the TV click on. "Ken told me to take the rest of the day off." There was a pause, and then, "You know…most of my Fridays end like this, now."

Opening the fridge, he grabbed two bottles of water before following the hanyou's voice back to the living room and falling onto the leather couch. "I noticed. Here." He threw a bottle to the man sprawled across the loveseat, one arm thrown haphazardly over his eyes as his other hand shot up to catch the projectile.

"Thanks." He sighed in defeat, pulling his arm away from his face to unscrew the lid before setting it aside. "I'm going to get fired," he finally announced firmly, still staring up at the ceiling with a small frown. The longer half of his bangs naturally hid his left eye, a trick he'd learned years ago—it helped him avoid unwanted contact, but regretfully, did nothing to hide his god-awful blushing.

His cousin chuckled, placed his own water on the wooden floor. The gaming company he worked with had been so enthralled with the kitsune, that they'd wore at him until he finally agreed to pull out of college to come work full-time with them. He'd only had a semester left anyway—his cousin was brilliant, no matter how socially inept he was, but he knew that he'd never find a better offer than the one he'd accepted in the end. "I somehow find that hard to believe—turn it up, will you?"

The TV was un-muted, and Miroku began flipping through the channels, pausing whenever he saw something that might be interesting.

"Was the game at least any good?"

Scratching his chest, with his knuckles, Miroku flipped the channel again. "Eh. Very generic. The plot was nothing I hadn't seen before, and the graphics were sub-standard. Not worth getting fired over. Your day any better?"

"Not really."

"So the great Hiroshi has an off day?" Miroku asked, a ghost of a smile flickering across his lips as he sat up and reached for his water again. The one visible emerald eye gleamed in the sunlight that filtered through the window, making the dark circles under his eyes that much more visible against his fair skin.

The hanyou sighed, stretching out across the couch as he watched some new diet pill commercial. "You could say that. I was called 'Pretty Boy' by a man whom I'm fairly certain was mentally incapacitated. …That was a highlight."

The kitsune hanyou snorted, a tired grin pulling across his face. "Oh? Did you give him your phone number?"

"No. I gave him yours."

"…Touché."

"Mm. Kannon called earlier, so…expect him soon, I suppose."

"He _called_?" Miroku sounded just as surprised as he'd been up to that very moment he'd realized he'd called only to make him an accomplice in his cutting class routine.

"Yeah, but of course there was an ulterior motive."

The kitsune seemed slightly mollified by the normalcy of _that_ action. "Oh." Finally, he switched the TV off. "Halo?"

"Sure."

"You two are so sad."

Hiro grunted at his younger brother's voice, frowning when golden eyes mirrored his own as Kannon leaned over the back of the couch to smirk down at him. "Remind me to get my key back from you," he growled, sitting up when the boy pulled away. Moments later he heard him rifling through the fridge. Now _this_…was an everyday occurrence. He was pretty positive that his brother ate half of his groceries.

"The door was open," he called back, "and no. What would I eat then?"

He rolled his eyes at the ceiling, folding his arms behind his head as he leaned back against the back of the couch. "Your _own_ food?"

Kannon laughed, and Miroku flashed him a grin. "I don't see that happening."

"I don't either," the junior said, plopping down on the sofa with a carton of orange juice and a block of cheddar cheese. "What happened to all your ramen?"

"_You __**ate **__it_!"

The little dipshit barked out another laugh. "Oh. Right. Well, consider yourself officially in less shit than you were when I first walked through that door. Though I'm still pretty pissed with you."

"I can see that." Raising a single brow when the young hanyou tore a chunk of cheese from the block, Hiro reached out to tug on a lock of his shorter, shaggy hair. "When'd you do that?"

He turned his head enough to see the black-dyed tips and swallowed, grinning. "Just got it done. So much more awesome than Physics, don'tcha think?"

Hiro snorted and let the silver and black hair slip between his fingertips before folding his arms behind his head again. "I think Father's going to kill you—that's what I think.

"Nah," he shrugged. "Mama will love it, so he'll let it go."

"She's going to be pretty pissed when she finds out you skipped school to do it, though."

He shrugged again. "That's why I'm here with you. Killing some time. I think I'll stay for about an hour…" he muttered thoughtfully, and tore into the cheese again. "That'll be long enough, and she'll just think I went _after_ school."

"I refuse to be your accomplice in this—I've already gotten you out of school, and that was enough. Any more and Mother would kill me. From now on, just don't tell me your plans, so that I won't have to lie to her."

Setting the cheese aside, he wiped his hands on his holey jeans before grabbing the orange juice and taking a long swig. He could practically hear Miroku grimace.

"Whatever, you coward. You're in too deep to back out now," he laughed, smoothing a crumb of cheese away from his teal hoodie and onto the floor. "Anyway—back to the main issue at hand," Kannon began with a sudden mock seriousness. "Two grown men spending their Friday nights at home. Playing a thirty year old video game. I swear, if you two weren't cousins, I'd say you were gay with each other—keep in mind that I'm not ruling out the possibility that you're both gay," he told them carefully, and slipped off the couch just in time to avoid being cuffed by his brother.

"Says the boy that paints his fingernails and worships Queen."

"Black doesn't really count—anyway, it matches my new hair accents _fabulously_," he gushed with a huge grin, lifting a fluttering hand to his hair before leveling them with a dead look. "And you don't have to be gay to realize the musical genius that is Freddie Mercury."

Hiroshi rolled his eyes, and whopped him across the head when he plopped back onto the sofa. Chuckling, Miroku crossed the room to set up the game system that rested on the bottom shelf of the stainless steel entertainment system.

"But seriously—Hiro, when's the last time you had a girlfriend? Or went on a _date_? Or even went _out_ on a _Friday_? Dude, that's just_ sad_. And don't even get me started on Miroku."

The hanyou blushed when he heard his name, and looked over his shoulder at his cousin. "Leave me out of this, please."

Kannon clucked his tongue, and crossed the room to snatch the wireless controllers away from him. "No. No Halo tonight. For either of you."

"You don't honestly believe I'll listen to _you_, do you?"

'_Prude.'_

'_I am _not_ a prude,_' he repeated, the second time in two days.

Kannon scowled at him. "Hiro. I'm going to get a freaking education on a _Saturday_, thanks to you. You should have at least one last night of fun before I kill you—which I'll probably have to do after tomorrow. I have no idea how pissed I'll be then, but I know how pissed I am _now_—"

Hiroshi cut him off with a firm glare. "You are the whiniest pup I've ever met. It's fucking _school_," he snapped, and Kannon shut his mouth, allowing Miroku to take the controllers back. "Just go, and get it over with. It's not going to kill you to give eight hours of your _incredibly meaningful_ life away so that you won't be as stupid as some of the people I've met today."

It was Miroku who spoke first. "Maybe…maybe we _should_ go out." He looked doubtful as he made his way back to the empty love seat. "We've both had pretty bad days, hm? I could use a drink."

"And who knows," Kannon added with a gracious nod to his cousin, "maybe you'll get a girl…friend," he added at Hiroshi's dry look.

"I doubt I'll find my mate in a bar."

With a snort, his brother sank onto the couch, tossing an arm over his shoulders. "Fucking-A, Hiro… Who said anything about a 'mate'? Meet a girl, have some—you know—_fun_? You still _remember_ how to have fun, right?" The look he gave him was dubious, at best, and Hiroshi shrugged the arm off of him.

"Our ideas of _fun_ rarely align."

"Not my fault or problem. Anyway, which bar should we hit? I'm all for—"

"_We_ aren't hitting any bar," Hiroshi interrupted, closing his eyes again. "Miroku and I are going. You're underage."

"'Snever stopped me before," he informed them with a smug grin, which quickly faded into a disgruntled frown when his brother cuffed him again. "Why the head? Why _always_ the head?"

"Because it's big and hard to miss."

Miroku chuckled.

"Anyway," the older brother continued, "don't you have something else you can be doing? And what happened to Mimi?" Golden eyes narrowed fractionally. "If you tell me you left her at school without a ride, I'm going to hit you again."

"Like she couldn't walk—or run—if she needed to. But no. I didn't leave Mimi without a ride," he sighed before making a face. "She's going out with her _boyfriend_." He shot a pointed look at Hiro. "Guy's a total ass-face, I'm telling you. I called him 'Ass-face' the other day, and he laughed. I think he thought I was joking with him, but, no, seriously…he's an ass-face."

Miroku's brows were furrowed thoughtfully. "What does that even _mean_?"

"He's full of shit. ...And he smells like ass," he added as an afterthought before he burst into laughter. "Fifty bucks says that Miroku uses 'ass-face' the next time you play Halo!"

Face flushed, the kitsune glared half-heartedly at the boy. "Double that says that Aunt 'Gome will collar you when she finds out I've been doing your physics homework all year."

He looked scandalized. "Mama would _never_ 'collar' me."

"She made one for Father, but whatever—I want to know if Father knows that Mimi's out with some guy right now." He was fairly certain Inuyasha would have at least mentioned—'_bitched about,_' the voice corrected—it in passing when he spoke to him earlier. If there was one thing Inuyasha hated, it was boys sniffing around his only daughter. Well, Kimiko _and_ his mate, who, at best, looked only a couple years older than his daughter.

The seventeen-year old sighed, glowering at the ceiling as he slumped lower into the couch, concentrating on something. "I dunno. Mama does, though. Me and Mimi were supposed to go to a party tonight, but he's an ass-face, and now I'm hanging out with you two losers."

"Completely your choice," Hiro reminded him dryly, watching him fidget in his seat. "I'm all for you leaving right now. Or half an hour ago—_what_ are you _doing_?"

Kannon stopped squirming and stared at his brother, brows raised. "…Cheese?"

Hiroshi looked onto the floor to see the block of cheese lying under the coffee table, dangerously close to Kannon's probing foot. His eyes flew back to his brothers, probably betraying his disgust.

Kannon grinned sheepishly.

"You _can't_ be serious about eating that now…"

"Iiii may throw up," Miroku said suddenly, lifting himself to his feet right when Kannon's shoe found the half-eaten block of cheese.

"Yes," he hissed triumphantly, before rolling his eyes at his brother. "Not if you're going to bitch about it." He bent down to pick up the cheese that he'd dragged to the couch only to have it snatched out of his hands by an exasperated kitsune. "I wasn't seriously going to eat it," he called after Miroku. "I was just picking it up—you know…being polite, since I dropped it. Should'a left it," he grouched.

Hiroshi sighed when he saw the grease streak that ran across the wooden floor from the coffee table to Kannon's feet. "Yeah. You should have. But back to tonight—you should probably go to bed early tonight anyway. Don't forget you have school in the morning."

Kannon scowled at him, and Hiro broke into a grin. "Tomorrow, I'm going to kick your ass."

Shrugging, he got to his feet, grabbing a hair tie from the desk to pull his hair into a low pony tail at the nape of his neck. "You can try, but we both know it will never happen."

"Riiight," the boy drawled smugly. "I've beaten you before, and I can do it again."

Hiro was motionless for a moment as he tried to remember when Kannon had beaten him. "…I hope you don't mean that time I _let_ you win when you were six…"

He looked insulted, and frowned at him. "Oi! You did not _let_ me win—I kicked_ ass_, Hiro."

The older brother shook his head as Miroku re-entered the room. "If I remember correctly, Mimi 'beat' me that day, too."

"Well, she's a better fighter than you, too."

With a sigh, Hiroshi let it drop. It wasn't important anyway.

* * *

It was a change of pace, but not a bad one, Miroku thought as he stared at and through the brown glass of his beer bottle. His fingers found the neck of it, and he twisted the bottle absently, vaguely aware of the music pouring from the jukebox on the other side of the bar. There was the loud clinking clash of pool balls breaking and scattering, and his black-tipped ears twitched without reservation. The humans wouldn't be able to see them anyway, unless they knew what to look for. 

On his right, Hiro was leaning on the bar, watching a poker tournament on the flat screen that hung above them. He ordered another bourbon, and pulled away from the bar to glance behind him. He nodded to Miroku, offering him a tepid smirk. "Some girls are talking about coming over here to talk to us."

Miroku's blush was nothing unnatural, and the kitsune's gaze on his beer grew more heated. These situations never ended well for him—he only ever ended up thoroughly humiliated. "Do they have to?" he asked, and his cousin laughed.

"They're drunk, and reek of several men—they're determined now, I think, but they're daring each other to be the first to come talk to us—there are five of them."

"Shit."

"Well…at least we'll have something to tell Kan, hm?"

"That makes it worse, if anything."

"Just use the women as practice. Like it or not, you're going to have to learn to talk to them eventually," he pointed out with a small smile, lifting the clean glass to his lips.

"You think I don't try? It's not exactly like I enjoy the way I make a fool of myself every time they come near me," he sulked. Suddenly Miroku's phone rang—a message, and he flipped it open, his face promptly shooting up in flames again. He quickly snapped it shut and grimaced at Hiroshi. "I…uh…I think that, um, Kannon has found something to do after all…"

Hiro's brows furrowed. "Wha—" His own phone chose this moment to go off, and shooting another look at Miroku, he opened it to find a pair of perky boobs staring at him, Kannon's face pressed up beside him as he grinned at the camera phone. "Oh, hell," he sighed, closing his eyes. "He _has_ to involve me in all of his dirt, doesn't he? I may _actually _have to kick his ass the next time I see him after all."

"He, um, works pretty fast, doesn't he?"

"I don't even want to know the details behind this one—" He growled when his phone began vibrating again, and another picture popped up—Kannon with his head turned this time, licking the side of—

"Why does he send this stuff to me," Miroku asked, staring down at his own screen with a weary expression, his face still flushed. "I don't…" He sighed, and flipped his phone shut. "He probably sent a copy to Kimiko, too."

"And she's probably complimenting the girl's body," he agreed dryly, and a quick smile flicked across the kitsune's lips at the truth of that statement as he lifted the bottle to his lips again.

Kimiko always had appeared more innocent, more childlike than she actually was. But it was impossible for her to be as naive as she appeared when she was Kannon's best friend. It seemed her father was the only one unaware of this. But regardless, everyone babied her, which she encouraged on some days, and had her on edge on others. That might have been why she and Kannon got along so well. He'd never babied her—protected her from all male creatures within a five-mile radius, yes, but he'd never told her she couldn't do something. Instead, he'd dragged her along to parties and bars and clubs—wherever he felt like going at the moment.

And Mimi loved it.

Hiroshi growled when his phone began to vibrate again—one last picture. This one came with a message: 'They can't teach this at school.'

'_Good God…_' the voice murmured in awe. '…_is _that_ what they call the motorboat?_'

'_You can't seriously expect me to answer that…_'

'_I forgot who I was talking to for a second. Prude._'

Miroku tossed a dubious glance toward his best friend. "Do I even want to know?"

Hiroshi shot him a look before he broke out in a grin, his eyes darting towards the giggling women behind them. "Oh, they've decided. How nice for them."

"Hirosh—_fuck_," he whispered, grimacing. His ears twitched agitatedly when a girl sank down on the stool next to him, and leaned forward, her arms folded on the bar as her breasts nearly popped out of her hot pink tube top. "Sex on the beach?" she asked the bartender with a sly smile before focusing her attention on the now insanely blushing Miroku, who could not have been more aware of her close proximity.

He chose this moment to conveniently check his phone before he began choking—the picture that Kannon had sent him was still there, voluminous breasts still staring at him. He fumbled to snap it shut again before realizing with a groan that he _still_ hadn't exited out of the picture.

Beside him, Hiro was grinning at his discomfort, but said nothing, and turned to talk to a girl almost identical to the one sitting beside him. Her tube top was blue—and though they probably looked nothing alike, that was the only difference he could notice without focusing more on their faces.

And she was still staring at him! He stared straight ahead and focused on controlling his furious blush, so it startled him when she spoke.

"What's your name, sailor?"

'_Did she just call him _sailor'

Blue Tube Top was forced to pat Hiroshi on his back when he began choking on his bourbon.

Wide eyes, a fierce green, flew to Pink Tube Top. "Uh…" was his brilliant response.

Pink Tube Top laughed and unscrewed her arms to shake his hand. He was sure she introduced herself, but didn't hear her name as his face burned.

Hiro took pity on him, and, leaning forward to grin at the woman on his friend's opposite side, he said, "This is Miroku. He's a bit shy—go easy on him."

The kitsune hanyou screwed his neck around to scowl at his cousin, and, holding up his hands in defeat, Hiro turned back to Blue Tube Top.

"Aww! You're _shy_? That's _adorable_!"

'_Holy hell…_'

"Um…Thanks?"

"Look!" she giggled, pointing to his face. "He's _blushing_! Oh, he's a cutie," she gushed, nodding her approval to Blue Tube Top, who only made things worse by asking, "How far down does that blush go?"

It took some effort to ignore the burning wreckage his cousin was becoming and focus on the blonde girl on his right. "So you're a stockbroker?" Hiroshi asked the woman lightly, trying to keep an open mind. There was no reason this girl beside him couldn't have a successful job.

'_Other than the fact that she looks about fourteen, you mean? Or that she could be a prize from a crackerjack box?_'

'…'

'_I just called her cheap._'

'_Yeah_,' he thought deprecatingly. '_I got that._'

'_Fuck you. That was funny._'

"Yes," the girl answered enthusiastically, leaning forward over her fruity drink. Her eyes never left his face. "It's really awesome."

He raised an eyebrow and tried not to grin. "Oh? What does your job entail?"

Her flirty smile drooped a bit. "Um, I deal with stock," she told him.

He could hear his youkai snickering. "O-o-oh. So _that_'s what stockbrokers do..." His eyes fell to his bicep when she trailed a finger up the length of his arm.

"What do you do?" she asked, peering up at him through sooty lashes, as she twirled her straw around in her drink.

He managed a small smile, and joked, "If I told you that, I'd have to kill you."

She giggled and slapped his arm.

'_Ho-o-oly fuck. She's worse than Sesshoumaru's secretary. I just _might_ have to kill her._'

'_Behave.'_

'_I bet if you walked out of here right now, Blue Tube Top would follow you--_'

His lips twitched, and he ordered a screwdriver. '—_Her name is Rini._'

'—_All you have to do is get her to the alley,_' it finished.

'_I'm not Kannon. I'm not touching this girl. Besides,_' he shot her another doubtful look, but she was drowning herself in her drink, '_I'm not so sure it wouldn't be a felony if I did. Seriously—how _old_is she? She should be in bed, or studying or—_'

'_I wasn't going to suggest you seduce her, you retard. People like her shouldn't be allowed to breed._'

Hiroshi cringed at the implication, glancing up guiltily at the bartender when he set the drink down in front of him.

'…_Hiroshi? Jesus—I was just joking. You need to fucking lighten up. And like I could actually do any of this stuff without you agreeing—_'

'_It's enough that you even fucking suggest it,_' he growled back. '_Just…no more talking to me tonight. This is the second time today that your solution to a tiny problem has been murder._'

"So…" the girl began, startling him from his thoughts, "what kind of music do you listen to?"

He smiled at her. "Classical."

"Rock? Mmm," she purred, "Me too."

"No, not classical rock. Just classical."

She stared at him, and he sighed, turning back to his drink.

Beside him, Miroku was fairing no better. Pink Tube Top was relentless in her teasings, and the kitsune felt himself slowly becoming irritated—if she wasn't careful, she was going to permanently stain his face red. With a sigh, he grabbed the hand squeezing his thigh, and set it back at her side, refusing to meet her eyes. How in the hell had Kannon managed to talk them into this?

And was he the one that had agreed? _He'd_ actually _convinced_ Hiroshi to come to this hell.

With another sigh, he slumped over the bar, burying his face in his hands. His cousin looked as miserable as he felt.

"Wow—you're really strong, aren't you?" Pink Tube Top murmured in awe, squeezing his bicep, and had that come from someone who didn't smell of seven different men, he might have been modestly flattered.

"I w-work out," he grunted lamely, refusing to lift his head from his hands. This night had to end eventually.

"I can see that," she purred, and he started, jerking upright when he felt her breath against his ear. "You're much…_bigger_ than your friend over there."

He nearly smiled when he felt, rather than saw, Hiro roll his eyes. The inu hanyou always had been more wiry—like Sesshoumaru and Rei. Tall and thin, though he could kick all of their asses on any given day. Well, maybe not Sesshoumaru or Inuyasha—but he had before—a few times, if memory served, though they both denied it.

Miroku, on the other hand, was a bit shorter, a bit broader, with more obvious muscles, like his father and Inuyasha—and Kannon, he supposed, who was a mirror image of the latter…hair excluded, that is.

"Hey, Miroku," Hiroshi called out softly. "Pool table's finally free."

"Thank God," he muttered, lifting himself from the stool, and staring somewhere in Pink Tube Top's general direction. "It was, uh… n-nice to meet you." He froze when her hand was suddenly around his, and he felt her stuffing a scrap of paper into his clenched fists. He finally met her eyes, with one of his own. She was grinning up at him, and leaned up on her tiptoes to press her lips against his cheek. "Call me."

She then grabbed Blue Tube Top's arm and pulled her away giggling—yep, no way they were out of high school…

Hiroshi grinned at Miroku's frozen expression, clasping his shoulder. "Come on, Polanski, no seducing the minors."

The kitsune scowled dryly at him, his face finally fading back to its normal pale hue. "Oh, you're hilarious."

He laughed. "Let's just play some pool."

* * *

It was almost two in the morning by the time Hiroshi pulled into his driveway, a jaw-popping yawn rising up as he pulled the keys out of the ignition. 

'_Sleeeep_,' he thought, picturing his bed in his mind. He hadn't gotten all that much this past week, and was looking forward to crashing for the weekend.

'_Kannon's here_,' was the only reply.

He heaved a heavy sigh when he heard the buzz of the TV all the way from his porch. '_Never mind._'

Shutting the door behind him, he walked into the living room. Kannon had crashed on his couch, and he reeked of alcohol and—

'_Well I'll be damned… Little Bit's got a wicked streak. Can't believe he had the balls after what happened last time._'

Golden eyes thinning, he reached over the couch to grab the front of the zipped hoodie, snatching his brother up into a sitting position. "What the hell did you do, you moron? Is that _heroin_ I smell?" A shock of panic ran up his spine, but he pushed it away, opting to hold on to his anger. Turns out, hanyou may have a high alcohol tolerance, but it's a completely different matter when it comes to drugs.

Kannon found this out the hard way.

The young hanyou blinked at him for a moment, straining to regain his bearings. "What?"

"Shit," he sighed, grabbing an arm and pushing the sleeves up to check for puncture marks—or the scent of dried blood.

'_He's clean._'

'You_ stay out of this._'

"What are you doing, Hiro?" Kannon yawned, pulling his arm back to his side. "What time is it?"

"Two in the morning, Kan. Now answer the question—why do I smell heroin?"

Eyes widened before thinning. "I didn't shoot up, you asshole. Did you wake me up for this?" He swore when his brother smacked him upside the head. "It's too late for this shit, Hiro," he complained, plopping back down onto the couch, throwing his pillow over his face.

"I can't believe I have to come home to this," the hanyou sighed, dragging a hand over his face. "Is _that_ why you're here? Because Father will smell drugs on you?"

The pillow was removed so that the younger brother could glare at him. "Oi! I told you—I didn't touch any drugs! I wasn't lying. But the girl I was with—"

"Thanks for the pictures, by the way," Hiroshi growled in a manner that informed his brother he wasn't really grateful. At all.

With a huge grin, Kannon stared up at the ceiling. "Cindy…" he sighed. "Would you believe all I had to tell her was that I was doing an experiment on how many women had two nipples?"

"Mother would be so proud."

Kannon ignored his sarcasm. "Beautiful, but she wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed. I fucking love vacations. American tourists are the shit."

"You looked like you were having a lot of fun. It's a really nice picture of you—I'm sure Mother would love a copy."

Kannon was suddenly sitting upright. "You wouldn't…"

Golden eyes narrowed, and Hiroshi set his jaw. "You're right. I wouldn't do that to her. Can you imagine how upset and embarrassed she'd be? To find out her youngest son—not even out of school yet, Kannon—whoring around with women he doesn't even know? She was fucking _high_!"

The boy's ears were pinned against his head. "I obviously didn't sleep with her, you ass," he bit out defensively. "And I already told you—her name was Cindy!"

"What's her last name?" he asked suddenly.

"…I don't remember."

"What does she do for a living? Is she still in school? Do you plan on seeing her again?"

"I was just playing around with her, Hiroshi. God, you'd think I'd made her my mate, the way you're going on."

Hiroshi sighed, his conscience oddly silent, and stared at him with thinly veiled disappointment.

'_Whatever. This _isn't_ my problem…_'

"…Go back to sleep, Kannon. Sorry I woke you up."

The pup's ears were still pinned against his head, and he still looked angry at his brother's accusations. "I didn't touch the drugs, Hiro. And I didn't 'whore around'. She took her shirt off, but that was it."

He was already walking towards his room. "I don't care. You can do whatever you want," he said over his shoulder before freezing in the doorway. His eyes flashed in the dark, and he heard his brother's breath hitch. "_You_ can do whatever you want," he repeated darkly. "But get Mimi caught up in your mess, and I'll break your legs. You won't be able to do much then."

His eyes widened when his own words hit him, but before Kannon could say anything, he'd already disappeared down the hallway and shut himself in his room.

* * *

Kannon was just waking up for Saturday-school when he was walking out the door the next morning. Rei had called him—two more murders, just as brutal as the last. They were so similar—both victims slashed apart with claws, though they were all done by different youkai. This time there was the scent of some sort of earth hanyou, too. 

All of three of the recent victims were young—only kids. The oldest was the nineteen year old he'd investigated Thursday morning; the youngest, a twelve year old boy.

Sesshoumaru called a meeting.

Sharp claws drummed against the polished mahogany table that stretched across the room, and the Inu no Taisho sent a look of bored disdain in his brother's direction. "Inuyasha, desist."

The hanyou glared at his brother, ignoring all the other stiff-collared bastards that surrounded him, but his glare faded when the youkai stood to slap Hiroshi's pictures on the table.

"I'm fairly certain that you can see the problem, gentlemen."

A hard-faced, grey-haired youkai—Yagami—glanced at the photos before meeting the taisho's steely gaze. "We have encountered many of these kinds of murders before. What makes these any different?"

"The difference," Inuyasha snapped, glowering at the youkai, "is that these are fucking _kids_, you bastard. Three murders in three days—they obviously aren't finished."

"Inuyasha is right," Sesshoumaru sighed.

"But you said the murders were unrelated," another youkai contributed.

"I never said they were unrelated," Hiroshi stated firmly. "I said that they were all murdered by different youkai—all in pairs. Only one will get his hands dirty. The other watches—a look-out. I believe it is far too early to suggest they are unrelated. If anything, they appear to be tied together at the moment."

"Do you think this is like…a cult, or is someone ordering the deaths of these specific people?"

"It seems rather ridiculous to assume that these children have attracted enough attention to have earned a hit."

"Obviously," Sesshoumaru drawled, leaning back in his chair to stare down his nose at the old falcon youkai. Beside him, Rei sat rigidly, the only difference at the moment, his black hair. "Do not be daft, Yagami. If their specific deaths were ordered, it would most likely be an attack on the parents. Perhaps the murders are random—blood for the sake of blood. Your thoughts, Hiroshi?"

"If the victims were, indeed, at the wrong place at the wrong time, then I would suggest that the murderers are in a cult, or something of the sort. That would explain why they attack in pairs, though one remains a spectator. It could be a test, or an initiation of some sort."

"Whether that is the case or not, these slayings must be stopped immediately. It is drawing far too much attention—the humans are horrified at the prospect of another 'Jack the Ripper'. If we do not annihilate the problem soon, youkai and hanyou will begin to question the power and efficacy of our organization. This cannot happen." The Tai Youkai's gaze flew to his brother. "Inuyasha. I want you to set up posts on every block within five miles of each murder site. Take as many men as you need."

"I can take a shift, too," Hiroshi told his father.

But Sesshoumaru shook his head. "I need more information on the victims. Get me answers without others realizing they're giving them. I want to know the names of their great-grandparents. I want to know who the parents dated in college—what high school they attended. And then I want you to place the scents of each youkai. Identify the race, and bring Inuyasha and Rei the files of every youkai that may fit the description."

The hanyou nodded gravely.

"Gentlemen. This has just escalated into a small crisis."

"But, Sir… _Three_ murders—we've dealt with far w—" The youkai's mouth snapped shut when Inuyasha released a quiet growl—all the more deadly.

"Haven't you heard a goddamn thing we've been saying? They're fucking _kids_! Pups! And they're being butchered, and we don't have a fucking clue as to why."

"And it's only been three days," Rei added grimly. "Three deaths in three days. There are several youkai out there—possibly and probably all working together—that are spitting on the name of the taisho and what our world stands for. Every time this happens, it jeopardizes everything we've been working towards. And the extreme brutality of these murders has drawn unwanted publicity, which we _do not need_."

Hiroshi stood to gather the pictures he'd snapped earlier. "Rei is right. This is bad rep, and can lead to chaos if it's not taken care of quickly. I will gather as much information as I can from the families, neighbors, teachers, and I'll retrieve the files of all youkai that match profile. With any luck, we can end this before more damage is done."

Inuyasha sighed, rubbing an eye with the heel of his palm. "We're not that lucky."

* * *

Things may have become hectic at work, but no matter what was going on in his life—how busy or bad things at work or school seemed, Hiroshi always put it all aside to spend Sunday mornings with his family. It was something that Kagome pressed upon. 

"Hiro's here!" was the only warning he was afforded before Kimiko threw herself on his back as he passed the stairs on his way to the kitchen.

He chuckled, and allowed her to ride on his back for the short distance. "Hey, Mimi."

Her arms tightened around his neck as she lifted herself enough to look over his head. "I haven't seen you since last Sunday," she complained. "There'd better be a good reason for that."

"The way I hear it," he began with a raised brow, kissing his mother's cheek as he passed, "is that you're always with this new boyfriend of yours."

At Inuyasha's disgruntled snort, the girl unwound her arms and slipped back to the floor. She was tiny—no taller than Kagome, but somehow she seemed more petite than her mother, even though she had more strength, hidden though it was. "Kannon doesn't like him very much," she whispered, which was unnecessary—everyone heard her.

"I don't like him either," her father called from the counter as he fixed his plate.

"Neither does Papa," she amended with a small smile. "But Mama doesn't seem to mind him."

At the mention of her name, Kagome handed Hiroshi a plate, smiling up at him. "How are you sweetie?" She frowned, giving him a once over. "Have you been eating right, Hiroshi?" she demanded. "You look awfully thin, and—you _have_ been sleeping, haven't you?"

He rolled his eyes, but softened it with a smile, grabbing the hand she'd placed on his cheek and setting it back at her side. "Yes, Mother. I eat. And I'm no different than I was last Sunday. When you said the same thing."

"Oi, 'Gome. Leave the pup alone."

The woman squealed when she was jerked away from him and pulled against a firm chest, her mate balancing a full plate in front of her nose as she laughed.

Inuyasha was grinning down at her, the plate drifting dangerously close to her face. "You eat some first—have to make sure it's safe to eat. Hell, that's probably why the pup's so thin. Scared to eat your food," he teased.

"Inuyasha! If you don't stop picking on my cooking, I'll say it. And," she sniffed haughtily, folding her arms across her chest, though he hadn't yet released her waist, "if you don't like it, you don't have to eat it. You can make your own food for all I care."

Shaking his head, Hiroshi began to fix his own plate. Now that he thought about it, he really hadn't eaten a lot lately, and now he was absolutely starving—and it smelled so good. His mother really was a good cook, unless she was experimenting. Last time, the stove had caught on fire, and there was still a singe mark on the wall. He glanced over his shoulder when another peal of laughter fell forth from his mother. Inuyasha was trying to shove what was left of a rice ball into her face.

"Fine!" she giggled and stopped squirming long enough to take a bite, wriggling around to face him and kiss his cheek. "Now let me go," she demanded once she'd swallowed. "I'm hungry."

Kannon came down last, still in his sleeping sweats and tank top. He plopped down in his seat beside Kimiko, smirking groggily at her when she grabbed a lock of his hair. "I still love it," she gushed, and Kagome set a plate down in front of him. "There you go, sweetie."

"Thanks," he mumbled, and Hiroshi couldn't help but notice that he'd yet to look at him.

'_Shit,_' the voice murmured in wonder. _'…I think you really got to him, Hiro…_'

But he was Kannon, and Kannon always bounced back with extraordinary confidence. "You still owe me a fight, Hiro," he said suddenly, looking up from his food and nodding at the plate that Hiroshi had barely touched. "You'd better eat—unless you _want_ me to snap you like the twig you are." He grinned.

"Oh, Kannon—I've been meaning to ask you, how was school?" Hiroshi asked, winking at Kimiko when she started snickering. "Didn't it feel good to do something valuable with your weekend? You've already told me all about your anatomy lessons. Anything else worth mentioning?"

Across the table, his father narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Hiroshi's light tone, but in the end, he must have decided that he didn't even want to know because he went back to shoveling food into his mouth.

"It was peachy," Kannon bit out, fully aware of his mother's proud smile pointed towards him.

"Maybe for you," Kimiko said, her chin plopping into her open palm as she leaned on her elbow. "I was bored all _day_ yesterday. At least, until Mama took me shopping—that was fun."

"That was fun, wasn't it," the woman mused, and her eyes fell upon her oldest son. "Aren't you hungry, Hiro? I can make you something else if you don't want this, but you need to eat."

He refrained from rolling his eyes at his mother's concern, and instead smiled at her. Shaking his head while he lifted his fork, he said, "This is fine, and I'm starving actually, so…"

She seemed thrilled by the fact he was 'starving', and his conscience started snickering.

Inuyasha sighed, nudging his mate with an elbow. "We need to get you a hobby, 'Gome."

She shrugged his elbow away from him, and pinned him with a dull stare. "I don't have time for a hobby. I have a full time job—and looking after you is like _another_ one," she reminded him. "I'm surprised I find the time to breath."

He glared at her. "Should have been a fucking comedian."

Hiroshi looked up to see Kannon inhaling his food. "Your food's not going to run away from you," he told him, a small smile playing with his lips. "Are you in that much of a hurry to embarrass yourself in front of our family?"

"M'not going to embarrass myself," he stated before shoving more salmon into his mouth. "M'gon' kick 'oor ass."

"Mm." He lifted his fork thoughtfully to his mouth before smirking at his brother. "Good luck with that."

* * *

_MacGyver -- Popular television series about a secret agent that could solve any problem with items as useless as a paperclip and shoe polish.  
_

_Polanski -- Roman Polanski- a Polish director who became involved in a sex-scandal involving a 13 year old.  
_

* * *

_I like this chapter overall--especially the scene with Miroku, Hiro, and Kannon all together, but I hate the last scene with a fiery, burning passion, so...sorry for that one. D: You can tell I was just ready to be done with it._

_Anyway, hope you enjoyed the new characters as much as I enjoyed writing them. I find that one of the best ways to get into a character is to find a song that suits them, so... _

**_Songs:_**  
_Hiroshi: "Into the Ocean" by Blue October  
Kannon: "Hello Hello" by Cat City Empire; and "Float On" by Modest Mouse  
Kimiko: "Love Today" by Mika  
Miroku: "Kiss Kiss" by Chris Brown (I couldn't resist... XD) _

_Before you ask, no, Hiroshi is not suicidal. He's not even unhappy. I think he's just tired; he has to watch his thoughts all the time, watch what he says, and try to prevent slip ups. Miroku, despite his haircut, is not emo. He has messy, red hair that falls around his face, and though you can't hardly see his left eye unless he moves it, he is and looks nothing like Zexion from Kingdom Hearts. Kannon, despite his affinity to Queen (which really -is- an amazing band), is obviously not gay. He isn't bi, either. He's just very relaxed and comfortable with his sexuality. Kimiko will have more character development later. Possibly.  
_

* * *

**_Quotes of Randomness:_**

_"I don't like when I go in a store and they call me 'Boss'. "Hey boss, can I help you, boss?" When they call me boss, I go, "I got some bad news... I'm gonna have to let you go. But first bring me the earnings from the register for today. I'll give you severance, and give me the rest." --Demetri Martin_

_"I was in a shoe store and the guys call me boss, and I said, "Ya, can i just get those sneakers in a 10?" And uh, he said, "Okay" and then he went down stairs. He came back and he said, "I don't have a 10, I have a 9." "Oh great, because while you were downstairs, my toes were severed off. So that works out. Normally it would be stupid for you to tell me a number different than the one I said, 'cause it goes with my body part. But given my very recent accident, you're right on. I'll take the 9's and a pile of band-aids, thank you. You're re-hired 'cause you're a genius." --Demetri Martin_


	3. The Really, Really Bad Day

_Chapter 3: The Really, Really Bad Day _

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha  
_

* * *

_I feel stupid, but it's something that comes and goes.  
And I've been changing—  
I think it's funny how no one knows._

_--"Mad Season" by Matchbox 20 _

* * *

_Hey, everybody—So…I've watched The Jungle Book like…eight times today. No lie. True, it was on a loop while I was writing, but still… Bagheera is only the greatest Disney character ever--or at least in the top five. _

_Thanks for the reviews! They mean more than you can know. So…hope you all like this chapter._

* * *

"Oh, _shoot_!" A dish spun to the baked brown floor, white glass exploding around her feet. _Damn_ her frayed nerves… "Ugg—Sorry," she muttered, carefully stepping around the mess to grab the broom leaning against the wall. "I'll pay for that." 

"At least it was clean," the old woman quipped from where she leaned against the teal counter, drying a glass. "It would have been real fun sweeping grits off the floor."

The broom ran across the dull tile, pulling shards and powered porcelain towards her feet again. "True."

An ancient hand fell onto her shoulder and squeezed gently. "How're you feelin', doll?"

"Like I might throw up any second now."

Old, shrewd eyes bore into her, and the rough looking woman—'Elvis' was the first name that came to Julia's mind when she'd first saw her—pulled her hand back and scoffed, though it was softened with a smile. "I'm tellin' you that you're worryin' over nothing."

She smiled at her boss. Anne was much older than she looked; a strong woman who was sometimes mistaken for a man, what with her platinum Elvis hair-style, and a smoker's rattle that gave the impression she'd been working in coal mines her entire life. "Maybe," she allowed, bending to sweep the pile into the dust pan.

"You've been to auditions before. I don't get why you're so nervous."

She stood again, once the floor was spotless, and made her way to the trashcan. "You've clearly never auditioned before. It's absolutely nerve-wracking. Everyone's watching you, judging you—and you're told barely anything about how they want the character to be portrayed. Not to mention the competition," she muttered, watching the glass shards fall into the tin bin. "It's cutthroat." Clear blue eyes flicked to Anne's old dark ones. "Besides—I've never tried out for a part this big. It could _completely_ revolutionize my acting career…"

"You're already too much of a drama queen as it is," the old woman rasped, and Julia smiled kindly.

"Really? You think so?"

"I _know_ so."

Setting the broom thoughtfully against the wall again, she brushed away a black curl that had managed to stick to her lip gloss. "Hm…I don't see it. I think I'm pretty calm about most things. I mean—"

"You're a drama queen, doll," Anne finalized, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "There's no doubt about it. Want a cup?"

"No thanks. The last thing I need right now is something to make me even more nervous—I need to throw up," she said suddenly. "This is horrible. This is a disaster. I don't know what I was thinking, signing up for this…"

Anne poured some cream into her coffee and began to stir. "Drama queen."

Julia shot her a half-hearted glare, but pulled herself together. "You're right. This is going to be easy. I'm just going to walk in there…and fail miserably. That's all there is to it."

"I'll beat you if you do," she replied without looking up from her coffee.

"You will _not_!" Julia gasped indignantly.

"Will, too."

"Anne! You realize that I almost certainly _won't _get the lead role, right?"

"Tough shit. Just gonna have to try that much harder, I guess. Won't you, doll?" She finally looked up from her drink to smirk at her employee—the daughter she never had. "You should probably go get ready now, shouldn't you?"

The young woman glanced up at the coca-cola clock hanging on the wall, and gasped loudly, a hand flying to her mouth. "_Oh_! Crap! I'm going to be late," she groaned, ignoring the ring of the doorbell—the first customer arriving for lunch.

"Well, just go get dressed. I'll take over from here."

"Thanks, Anne," she called, as she ran to the abandoned corner behind the counter, snatching up her duffel bag before turning on her heel, and rushing into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.

"I'm late, I'm late," she chanted absently as she tugged the apron off once she'd untied it. "I'm late—" Thin fingers quickly ran down the buttons of her generic blue dress until she was able to shrug out of it, letting it slip to the floor around her black-slippered feet. Skipping out of the pile of cloth, she hurried to her bag she'd set by the door and pulled out her simple red dress.

"I'm late!"

Shaking it out, she took a second to search for any wrinkles, though if she found one, there was nothing she could do about it at this point. "I'm late!" The dress was already unbuttoned, and she draped it across her back, sliding her arms into the three-quarter length sleeves before she busied herself with the large buttons again. She stared at herself in the mirror as she tied the red belt into a bow around her waist. It would do, she supposed. Red was certainly a dramatic color—especially the contrast it held between her light skin and black hair, which was beyond hope of repair at the moment. The loose curls were somewhat limper than usual, but whatever. There was nothing she could do about that right now. She stuffed her apron and uniform into the duffle bag, and quickly zipped it up before unlocking the door and flinging herself out of it.

She hurried around the counter, gasping in pain when she caught her hip on the edge as she ran past. "Ow!" she accused glaring at the offending counter. Her hip throbbed violently—that's going to leave a bruise. "_Shoot_!" She stared down at her hip, hidden beneath the stiff red fabric, and kept going. '_No time—walk it off. You're a big girl._'

"Are you going to take a cab?"

"Uh…no," she told Anne, as she fumbled around for her pocket book. "It's only a few blocks away—have you seen my bag?"

"Beside the coffee pot."

"Ah!" she grinned, grabbing her purse, "_Thank_ you!"

"Welcome. And your 'few' would be seven. _Seven_ blocks in _this_ weather?" Her white eyebrows rose, and she nodded to the front of the diner.

Julia turned around to look out the windows, and her face fell instantly. "How long has it been raining like this?" she cried in dismay.

"'Bout thirty minutes. I'm surprised you didn't hear it."

"I wasn't paying attention," she mumbled, still frowning at the torrential downpour that awaited her. "This day has just gotten ridiculous… And I didn't bring a jacket or anything," she sighed.

"And you're wearing flats," Anne frowned, staring down at the black slippers. "What in God's name possessed you to wear flats?"

"Well…I like them," she defended, lifting her chin proudly. "And they're more comfortable than heels—but I don't have time for this. I have to go." She threw another dubious glance out the windows before she took a deep breath.

"Well…I don't have a jacket, but I have an umbrella you can use. Go grab it from the back."

"Anne—you're the most amazing person I know!"

"Drama queen," she called fondly after the rushed girl.

It only took a moment, and she was ready to brave the weather outside—armed, as she was, with an umbrella. '_I should probably take the bus after all,_' she realized before remembering that the next one would be twenty minutes—that she didn't have.

"Good luck, doll. Give'em hell."

She pushed open the door, instantly regretting her decision to leave her jacket behind this morning. Sure, it might not have matched her dress, but in this weather, who cared? It was absolutely freezing…and wet. She was wet already—even with the umbrella unfolded above her.

Three blocks later, she was positively soaked, the freezing rain plastering her dress to her trembling body. Her hair, which had frizzed the moment she stepped outside, had long been drenched as the wind blew the rain into her.

'_What a horrible day_,' she thought, already on the verge of tears. There was no chance now of her making her audition—she knew this; she was already late anyway. But her perverse stubbornness pushed her forward. '_Horrible day,_' she thought again, '_but I'm going to see this through. Stupid, stupid rain. …I shouldn't have gotten out of bed this morning._'

She'd managed to go one more block when an SUV ran through a puddle, drenching her with dirty water. A complete sense of despair enveloped her, and she wanted nothing more than to allow herself a small pity-party.

It had been a horribly crappy day, and by God, if she wanted to wallow in misery, she would, dammit!

And looking down at her dirtied dress, unable to feel her freezing toes, she began to cry.

* * *

Thirteen deaths in three months. The Lullaby Slayings, people called them—the oldest of their victims twenty-two years old. The youngest, barely four. 

It was shocking—inconceivable, really. The great Inu no Taisho and all his men were foiled by a bunch of vicious criminals that _had_ to be covered in blood. Rumors flew, infecting youkai and hanyou like the plague.

_The Taisho's loosing his grip. He's slipping._

Paper flooded his desk—notes he'd taken over the course of the investigation. Each one as useless as the last. The attacks appeared to be random, and_ since when_ did youkai become so damn good at eluding the Tai Youkai? At eluding his father—who excelled at tracking?

It really was _inconceivable_…

And there were so goddamn _many_ of them… Twenty six youkai and hanyou—one even stupid enough to spill his seed near a body—and none of them had been caught. Of course, he'd reviewed more than five thousand profiles that might have been a fit, and of those with previous criminal records, he'd paid a covert visit, capturing their scent.

Hiroshi sighed, burying his face in his hands as he braced his elbows against his desk. '_Dammit—this is getting us nowhere._'

'_It has to go somewhere, sometime. You give up way too easily, you know?_'

'_Did I say I was giving up?_' he snapped at himself, lifting his head to glare out the window. He was absolutely positive the cases were linked. Unless, of course, there were copycats, in which case, he had no way of knowing. It was two different perpetrators every time anyway… He also believed it was the act of butchering a child that earned the murderers a spot in some organization or gang.

He had no proof of this, of course, but he had a feeling… And his 'feelings' rarely led him astray.

But there was no gang he'd ever heard of that demanded—

'_It must be new.'_

'_We still have no proof,_' he pointed out, fishing out a victim's file, and re-reading it.

'_Then get your damn proof. Shit—I'm tired of listening to you bitch about this. You've got unlimited resources at your disposal. Would you just fucking _use_ them already?_'

Releasing another heavy sigh, he leaned back into his chair and watched through the sheets of glass as the first drops of rain began to fall outside.

'_A new youkai gang where the initiation was the task of murdering a child—human, hanyou, _or_ youkai. They seem indiscriminate in that area._'

'_And they're obviously not stupid or unorganized if they've managed to escape Sesshoumaru and Inuyasha,_' the voice pointed out with a yawn.

Golden eyes fell onto the picture of a dismembered six year old girl. '_This is a frightening development. We may have underestimated the immediacy of the situation._'

'_No shit._'

He straightened his back and smirked when his office door was shoved open, revealing his grumbling father, a bento box in each clawed hand. "Oi," he muttered, kicking the door shut behind him, and holding up one of the bento boxes. "You up for an early lunch? Your mother thinks you aren't smart enough to eat when you're hungry," he said, a tired smile flicking across his lips. The slayings had been perhaps even harder, and far more frustrating, for Inuyasha—who was not too keen on the concept of failure.

With a bare foot, Hiroshi dragged his extra chair close enough to shove it across the room, wheels spinning madly, until its back found Inuyasha's hand and came to a sudden halt. The older hanyou wheeled the chair around to the front of his son's desk, and passed him a box, plopping heavily into the chair. "Thanks. I'd forgotten that I'm supposed to eat on a regular basis."

Inuyasha was already digging into his rice. "Don't say that to Kagome."

"I was joking. And you'd think I was frighteningly thin, the way she's going on about this. I wear the same pants size as Rei," he muttered, pushing around a piece of sushi with his chopsticks before popping it into his mouth.

The hanyou shrugged, frowning at one of the bloody pictures Hiro had left on his desk. He turned it over. "She's Kagome. She's going to worry. We coulda wrapped all three of you in bubble wrap when you were kids, and she'd _still_ find reasons to worry. '_Don't you dare put them in that tree, Inuyasha,_'" he mimicked poorly. "_'No, they cannot play with Tessaiga—Have you lost your mind? I don't care whether or not Sesshoumaru brought the Tenseiga'_" He grinned and leaned back in his chair as his son chuckled. "Good times. Then there was that one time you and one of your little girlfriends got curious and stripped in your bedroom." He barked out a laugh, taking a huge bite of a rice ball and swallowing. "I thought your mother was going to have a stroke."

One of Hiro's ears twitched, and he swatted a fly away from it, his lips quirked into a small smile. "Hm… I don't remember that."

He leaned back in his chair, propping his feet on the desk, papers crinkling beneath him. His honey eyes lit up in smug satisfaction. "That doesn't stop it from being one of the funniest moments of your childhood—'_Mama? Why doesn't Azami gots a pee pee like me?_'—"

"Hoookay…" Hiro interrupted, his eyebrows lifting in slow discomfort, "Let's not tell that story to anybody ever again."

Inuyasha shrugged, unscrewing the top off a bottle of water. "Told everybody already anyway." He stared at his son for a moment before cracking a grin and taking a swig of his water.

'_Dammit_.' He tossed his father a dry glare and began to finish off the last of his lunch. "Oh, well that's nice."

"They seemed to think so."

They fell into a companionable silence as they finished their lunch. Without realizing it, Hiroshi lost himself in his research again—there were just so many files he needed to sift through. So many suspects he needed to 'visit'.

Inuyasha stared at the mess on his desk with a small frown. "Take the rest of the week off," he said so suddenly that Hiroshi's head snapped up.

"What? No—I can't, Father." He was already shaking his head, reaching for a folder—the first victim and all information concerning her, but when the older hanyou snatched the folder out of his hands, he sighed irritably, lifting his eyes to stare wearily at his father. He really, _really_ wasn't in the mood for an argument right now.

'_Fat fucking surprise,_' his conscience felt the need to interject sarcastically.

"Yes, you can. And that wasn't a fucking suggestion, Hiroshi. I'm _telling_ you to take the rest of the day."

He picked up on the challenge, and his brow furrowed as gold clashed with gold. "I don't have time for that," he said slowly, pointedly. "And I'm actually really busy right now, so if you don't mind…" He nodded toward the door, plucking the file back from Inuyasha.

Inuyasha stood slowly, leaning forward, palms supporting his body on the messy desk as he glared at his son. "Since these murders have started, you've doubled your weekly hours here. And _nothing is moving forward_. Go home for the week. Rest. Do school work—I don't give a shit. But get your _ass_ _out_ of this office."

Hiroshi glared back, calmly, and leaned back in his chair, arms folded over his chest as he studied his father. "No. You know I cannot just take time off. Especially right now. Uncle—"

"It was his idea."

His breath hitched, and his determined face slipped into that of surprise. So _that_ was what this was about… His smile was slow in coming, and when it did, it was tired and resigned, and he stood, meeting Inuyasha's eyes. "He sent my _father_ to tell me this? What—he couldn't be bothered to do it himself?"

Inuyasha's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he glanced down at the desk, picking a random folder, and flicking it open. Hiroshi could feel himself getting more and more irritated as he studied the file—victim number seven—for the briefest of moments. "I volunteered."

He cleared his throat. "So… I'm being reassigned, then?"

"Keh! _No_. Who else can take this case—if you can't…" he paused and shrugged. "He thinks you need a break—a short one. You can come back next week after you've had a chance to rest. Thinks it'll help speed this up."

"Right."

His father sighed and rolled his eyes as he folded his arms behind his head, stretching as he straightened up. "He's not calling you incompetent, Hiro. He's saying you're exhausted, and that your work isn't up to its normal standards. And I can see that. …Take the break," he insisted firmly, and his son sighed again.

"Fine." The word left a bitter taste in his mouth, but his mind was already running through Tchaikovsky's 'Arabian Dance', and his blood settled before it had even realized it was stirring.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Inuyasha smiled wryly, dropping back to his chair. "Thought for a minute you weren't gonna listen to me. Haven't challenged me like that in a while, pup."

"Yeah, well, you're the one that keeps telling me not to deal with anyone's shit—and that's what this is, you know," he muttered irritably, his eyes falling to his desk. His messy, messy desk, covered with the files of thirteen dead kids. Thirteen kids that were happy, and innocent, and unsuspecting, and now resting in several pieces in their coffins.

But did it all amount to bad luck? Were they in several pieces in their coffins because they were at the wrong place, at the wrong time. Or was there a method behind it all—

'_Christ, Hiro. You're officially on vacation now, and you still can't get it out of your head. I think the Old Man's right. You need to get your ass out of this office._'

"Yeah, well, as much as I hate to admit it, the bastard's right. You need a break. So…this is some 'shit' that I think you need to deal with."

"One week."

"That'll be enough to get Sesshoumaru off your back," he nodded, satisfied, but when he saw his son's dark frown, he sighed. "I wouldn't've pushed at this if I didn't think you needed it."

"No, I understand," Hiroshi told him with a forced patience. He began organizing the folders on his desk. "I just wish you and mother would realize that I'm well aware of my own limits. I promise you I will not break." He offered his father a humorless smile, eyes still dark and fierce from the earlier argument, and Inuyasha read the message, loud and clear: _Back the fuck off, Old Man._

Chuckling, he shook his head. "You're right, pup. I s'pose you think I'm just as bad as Kagome, hm?"

He shrugged as he rifled, his desk becoming tidier by the second. "You said it. Not me."

"Yeah, yeah… Well, huh," he muttered, scratching the back of his head. "Shit."

He straightened again after he'd finished cleaning up his mess a few minutes later. His father was standing, too—waiting. "All right. I guess I'm going then. But listen—I need you to find a youkai among your men. One that doesn't have a mate, and is willing to risk his life and get his hands dirty."

He expected his father to at least ask 'why', so he was a bit unnerved when he grinned toothily, and said, "About damn time. I was wondering when we were going to get to the good part."

"'No mate'," Hiroshi repeated carefully, watching Inuyasha. "Which means _you_ can't do it."

He rolled his eyes. "I know that, pup. But yeah. Leave it to me."

* * *

'_So…a week, huh?_' 

'You _are the last thing I want to hear right now,_' he growled, turning up the music as he caught a red light.

'_Someone's a bit touchy…_'

'_Seriously. Piss off.'_

It was coming down hard outside, and his windshield wipers worked furiously as the light turned green again.

Seriously…what did they think they were going to do with the investigation with him gone? He was just going to take a break while there were still youkai out there killing children?

"God _dammit_!" he snarled, lip curling up to bare his teeth. Then he stilled, stunning himself with the sudden surge of anger that enveloped him. Amber eyes wide, he tried to focus on the soft music—the music that had always managed to calm him, the 'savage beast', so to speak.

'_Father was right. I need a break. I'm losing my grip._'

But really, it wasn't surprising. He wasn't used to being strung along by his prey. He'd always been praised for the way his mind worked, for his quickness and efficiency, and it infuriated him that Inuyasha was right.

'_Nothing is moving forward_,' he'd said.

Nothing is moving forward.

It was at this moment, that Hiroshi ran through a large puddle of dirty water.

This would have meant absolutely nothing to him if he hadn't seen, out of the corner of his eye, it completely drench a woman.

He groaned, slowing his jeep to a crawl immediately.

'_Well, hell, Hiro. It just ain't your day, now is it?'_

'_I'd better pull over.'_

But then he looked in his rearview mirror and saw that she was crying. The idea to waste time searching for a parking spot suddenly became a bad one, and he found himself putting his car in 'Park' in the middle of the street, as he quickly jumped out of his jeep and jogged around his car to the sidewalk. His ears plastered themselves against his head, trying in vain to deny the rain access.

The woman before him was a pitiful sight, her umbrella lying on the ground beside her. Her shoulders shook as sobs wracked her body, and Hiroshi felt he was completely justified in the shocks of panic that ran through him. "I'm sorry," he began hurriedly, as he closed the distance between them. He was already soaked almost through his clothes. "If I'd known there was a puddle that large, I would have slowed—" His lame apologies ceased when she looked up at him, and he saw a spark of recognition in her eyes.

"Oh," she wailed, "it's _you_!"

He was stunned into silence for a moment, his jaw unhinging itself. "…_Julia_?" Apparently, this had been the wrong thing to say, as it only served to make the wailing louder. People on the streets were beginning to stare, and the honks from the cars behind him were growing more frequent and irritable.

"Y-you remembered my na-na-a-ame," she cried, her fists clenched at her sides, the upturned umbrella filling with water as more and more rain came down on them.

'_The hell…?_' he wondered, his jaw still not working properly.

'_Maybe…maybe she's crazy?_' the voice suggested warily, and Hiroshi managed to shut his mouth. Rather, he chose to stare at her uncertainly.

'_She_ _didn't seem crazy a few months ago—hell, even _**you**_ liked her…_' Ignoring the honks that now flooded his ears, he took a step closer, completely at a loss on how to handle this particular situation. "Julia?" he asked again, more calmly. "Are…are you alright?" He reflexively took in her sodden dress, that couldn't possibly be warm, even if it hadn't been drenched, and blue lips. The way her legs trembled, her shoulders hunched as though trying to disconnect herself from feeling.

"_No_!" she shouted angrily, an impulse if her startled expression meant anything. His eyebrows rose. "I mean, yes, I'm f-fine. Just…Just," she let out a miserable laugh, lifting her arms hopelessly and letting them flop soggily back against her sides, "having a _really_ b-bad day."

'_So she thought she'd stand out in this downpour to have her breakdown. Well…that makes sense,_' it thought calmly. '_Hiro, she's a crazy bitch._'

'_Maybe,_' he allowed slowly, still completely uncomfortable with the situation. '_If she'd just stop crying so that I could think…_' He might be frighteningly different from his father, but that didn't mean there weren't some similarities. A weakness for women's tears was a trait that ran in the family. So far as he knew, even his cousins suffered it.

"Ah."

"I f-felt like making a scene," she sniffled bitterly, hiccoughs still shaking her body frequently, though her wailing had stopped. She wiped tears and rain away with a dripping wrist—a futile action that only achieved the complete ruin of her eyeliner.

He might have chuckled at the ridiculousness of it all if she wasn't trying so hard to stop her tears. "I, ah, see that. And you're completely drenched," he pointed out with a frown, giving her a look over.

"_Really_?" she asked dryly, before heaving a stuttering sigh. "Sorry. I'm not normally this difficult. I hope."

Flicking his ears free of excess rain, he attempted a smile. "No, don't be. Your sarcasm is actually comforting in a situation such as this."

She groaned, and it turned into a chuckle, as she fought to run a shivering hand through soaked and tangled hair. "God—you probably think I'm crazy."

"Well—" he began, and she laughed again, a thick, ragged sound. "Not really."

'_Bat-shit insane is more like it._'

'_Your contributions are absolutely unnecessary._'

She grabbed her umbrella handle, carefully tipping it to empty it of the collected water. He smiled warmly when she lifted it over her, the remaining drops falling down her face. "Um…" She stared past him at his stalling jeep, an angry line of cars jammed behind it. "I think your car is in trouble," she sniffled, quietly, and he started. He'd nearly forgotten about it.

Sure enough, the man directly behind his jeep was glaring directly at him, shouting curses at the window that he was glad the woman couldn't hear. His smile became indulgent, and the man flicked him off.

'_Sonofa—_'

'_Don't even start. Not worth it._' He turned back to face her. "Oh. Right. Well, come on, then. I'm not leaving you out in the rain."

The rain pattered against the umbrella above her. Her brow furrowed in confusion. "You want me to come _with_ you?"

"I'm assuming you don't have a ride?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at the angry traffic.

"Well…" she hedged. "I mean…I'm sure you're nice and all, but I don't…know you."

He pushed wet bangs out of his line of sight and grinned. "Is this about the mafia thing? That was a joke, you know."

It took her a moment to understand what he meant, but when she remembered, a genuine grin touched her lips. "So I won't wind up dead in a dumpster somewhere?"

He raised his right hand solemnly, his eyes smiling at her—'_Gold_…' she thought, bemused—"On my honor. I'll drop you off wherever you need."

She bit her lip, and honestly thought about accepting, if only to get out of the downpour and for the sheer impulsiveness of it all, but this she remembered—"I can't," she finally told him, and she really did sound disappointed. "My apartment—it's being fumigated right now. I'm supposed to be at an audition at…well, about ten minutes ago. I was going to be gone all day. Thank you, though. Really."

He frowned thoughtfully. "Are you sure? You can't just stay out in the rain—"

"And you can't leave your car in the middle of the road," she reminded him yet again with a smile, all traces of old tears washed away at last. "They're getting a bit incensed with you, Mr. Takenawa."

"I can't just leave you out here. My mother would kill me if she knew…" He drifted off before, his eyes shot back to her. "At the risk of sounding like a shady predator, I'm going to invite you to my parents' house. I'll give you some of my sister's clothes while yours dry out. After you have dry clothes, I'll take you wherever you want to go to wait. A store, a friend's, your apartment building—wherever."

She didn't say anything for a while, her eyes wide as she stared appraisingly at him. Then she burst into laughter.

He vaguely wondered if he should be insulted.

'_Now who's the crazy bitch? You're inviting her back to your parents' house? You sure you want to put that kind of crazy on them?_'

He sighed, but smiled when she grinned up at him. '_She's not crazy—_'

"Fine. I'll come with you—but only because you're too obvious about the creepiness of this all to be a real serial killer. If you are, you're horrible at it."

"I should probably be insulted," he replied lightly, already leading the way back to his jeep, where he opened the door for her. "But strangely, that means very little coming from the woman I found bawling in this torrential downpour."

She wanted to glare at him, but found herself hiding a smile instead, as she climbed into his jeep. After he shut her door, he made it back to the driver's side with amazing quickness.

The moment his door shut, it immediately became awkward, and Julia felt like banging her head against the window—but that would only leave smudging on his otherwise immaculate jeep, which was now soaked because of her. She had not foreseen this.

Hiroshi, for his part, said nothing, as he concentrated on ceasing the furious horns behind him by putting his car in Drive.

After two minutes of uncomfortable silence, Julia made what had to be the most pitiful attempt at a conversation ever. "So…" she drew out, glancing around the jeep. "This weather… Crazy, huh?"

He turned on the heat, for which she was eternally grateful, and said, "Yes," for which she silently damned him for putting her horribly clichéd small talk out of its misery. But she forgave him when she saw him press the 'power' button on his stereo.

Meanwhile, Hiroshi was having a heated argument with himself.

And he was losing. So far, he'd been called names with five different variations of the word 'fuck'. He thought he was handling it amazingly well, but then he remembered that it was because he'd not been surprised that it thought he was insane for bringing 'unhinged baggage' along with him.

His conscience, for some odd reason, was extraordinarily critical, and he often ignored it.

His nerves began to unbunch themselves when the sound of blissful music swam through his head, drowning out that damned voice. He'd nearly forgotten he had company, when she gasped loudly, and he slammed on brakes instinctively.

Julia shot forward—physics will do that to you—but caught herself by shoving her hands against the glove compartment before she could actually hit it.

"What happened?" He was instantly alert, and could hear her heart pounding in her chest as she grasped at his dashboard with stiff, white fingers. She stared at him with huge eyes, clearly shocked.

"I—I was just going to say that…uh, this is the song from, um, my favorite Tom and Jerry cartoon," she stammered quietly, quickly, looking away from him as a furious blush dusted her cheeks. "I didn't mean to startle you." She immediately buckled up incase he felt like coming to an immediate, and unexpected, stop sometime in the near future.

'_You see?_' The voice was entirely too smug for his liking. '_She's barely been in here for five minutes._'

He stared at her as though she'd lost her mind, and was still staring when he'd released the brake and pressed down on the gas again, ignoring the honks that sounded behind him again. "…Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody number two, you mean?"

Her blush darkened, and she coughed embarrassedly. "I know it as the song that Tom plays on 'The Cat Concerto'…" He was still staring incredulously at her—she just knew it. She probably looked like the biggest airhead right now. That was exactly like the main premise for every horror movie, she realized. The unsuspecting, stupid airhead falling right into the clutches of the gorgeous gentleman, who was so polite. Until that one moment where he decides to eat her liver 'with some fava beans and a nice chiante'.

'_I'm probably going to end up in a well dealing with transvestites and lotions and hoses and baskets_,' she thought absently, as she looked out the window. That thought, surprisingly, didn't frighten her.

"I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

It was her turn to stare at him. "You never watched cartoons when you were little?"

He shrugged. "Well, yeah. But it's been a while…"

She felt all of her apprehension and embarrassment wash away when she was given the chance to touch upon a familiar subject. "Oh, well…it's a cartoon about a cat that's always trying to eat this mouse. But always ends up getting blown up, or sliced up, or squished… I always felt really bad for him. I mean, he really should have gotten the mouse in at least one episode, right? And don't even get me started on that stupid roadrunner." She was still frowning when he began to laugh.

"I'll have to look it up some time. Tom and Jerry, was it?"

She glared at him. "You don't have to make fun of me about it. It's not like I still watch cartoons," she snapped.

'_What a bold-faced liar you are._'

'_Oh, shut up._'

His smile was genuine. "What makes you think I was making fun of you?"

She looked at him warily, lacing her fingers in her damp lap. "You're laughing."

"Well, you're funny." His tone was reasonable and light, and she found herself wanting to smile, too, no matter how soggy and miserable she should be.

She was quiet for a minute, before she looked out the window and muttered, "I _do_ still watch cartoons…"

He grinned, but didn't say anything.

They listened to the rest of the song, the silence, somehow, comfortable now. Or, at the very least, much less depressing than it was earlier.

"The real reason I decided to ride with you," she announced quietly and suddenly, "was because of what you did last time you went to the diner." She rubbed her knees, barely exposed now that she was sitting down, with a sudden intense interest.

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye when she looked up and studied him, searching for some sort of reaction to her statement. "Anne told me that you talked to those…men."

"Ah. Yes. The obnoxious ones, right?"

"Well…they were polite after that. I really appreciate it. And the pie."

"Well," he said, humor evident in his tone, "you were having a bad day—much like today, I suppose." She laughed. "Pie was certainly called for. Are bad days a running theme with you?"

"Surprisingly," she retorted, "they seem to be a package deal as far as you're concerned—" but then she bit her lip. She really didn't know him—maybe that last remark was taking this new 'comfortable teasing' a bit too far. She relaxed when he chuckled. "No, the first time, it was my birthday—a horrible one at that."

"Oh." He hadn't been expecting that. "Well. Happy belated birthday, I suppose."

"Thank you." She watched the buildings grow scarcer and scarcer as they neared end of the 'downtown' portion of the city.

"And today?"

She jerked her head back towards him and raised her brows expectantly. "Hm?"

"Why is today such a bad day?" At her incredulous stare, he continued, "I understand that you were caught out in the rain and all, but…?"

"Oh." She was quiet for a while, turning back to the window, and he saw her eyes grow distant as she stared past her reflection. "I want to be an actress," she said at last and let out a humorless chuckle. "I mean—I don't know anyone that aspires to be a waitress all of their life. Today I was supposed to audition—it would have been huge for me. But it's just one of those days—the ones where everything goes wrong. I was running late already, and then it started raining. And then I got wet, and my dress is dirty now, and… I thought that crying might make me feel better." They stopped at a red light.

"Did it?"

He was watching her carefully; her smile was small and complacent. "Yes. You should try it sometime."

"I'll keep that in mind," he agreed, and his smile fell a bit; it became sheepish. "I really am sorry about your dress. And your audition."

She sighed, "Don't be. It was unavoidable, I suppose. And I was already soaked anyway. There was no chance of me making that audition, but I didn't want to acknowledge it. Green light."

His foot mashed gently on the gas. '_Well? Still afraid of her?_'

'_Was never afraid of her, you ass. Unless her crazy is contagious. I'm starting to believe it is._'

'_First—or second in this case—impressions really stick with you, don't they?_'

'_Well…she's interesting. But that may just be because she's talking to_you_—you're so uninteresting, you're anti-interesting. You sort of just…make all interesting things boring. Like you._'

"Did you ever find your friend? The dangerous man you were looking for?" she clarified when he threw a bemused look her way.

With the clarity, came a sudden ferocity that was gone as suddenly as it appeared. She wondered if she'd imagined it. "No," he sighed. "I suppose that means you haven't seen him, either?"

She shook her head. "Sorry."

"He has to show up sometime, right?"

It grew quiet after that, and another ten minutes passed in silence.

"Here we are," he finally announced nodding to the trees on her left. She watched and waited, and soon, the trees broke away, exposing a small clearing, complete with the most welcoming house she'd ever seen. Yellow—such a happy color, and even in the frozen, dreary winter, it managed to look warm and inviting.

It screamed, 'I bake cookies'.

'_There…is _no_ way _anyone _has ever been raped and murdered in that house._'

When Hiroshi scoffed, she looked to see him glaring out his windshield. "That dipshit," she heard him mutter to himself. "He's going to fail if he's not careful."

He was glaring at the bright red Lancer he pulled up next to. '_Brother_,' she realized when she saw the plush dice hanging from the rearview mirror. She hid her smile when he glanced at her with dry amusement. "How much do you want to bet he's somehow managed to help my sister skip class, too?"

"Um…" she offered helpfully, and shrugged.

"Right, well…I'll let you out, and then you just run for the door." Before she had a chance to say anything, he was already out of the jeep, soaked with fresh freezing rain, she watched him run in front of the SUV, and it wasn't until he opened the door for her that she realized she was still buckled.

"S-sorry," she mumbled as she quickly fumbled with the buckle, trying to ignore his soft laughter, his tall frame blocking the rain from targeting her legs and his leather seat. "Got it—" She slid out of the SUV, and darted for the house, Hiroshi on her heels.

She couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of her when she burst through the door—it was just so…so exciting! When was the last time she'd done something as spontaneous and impulsive as riding home with a stranger—a gorgeous one at that. With manners to boot.

There was a soft thud, and she easily found a spoon, lying on the floor in front of a pair of tiny feet—with a perfect pedicure, of course. Julia repressed the slight ping of jealousy, and looked up to meet the shocked golden eyes of a young woman with a tub of ice cream tucked under an arm. The wide eyes darted from her own, to a space a good foot above her head—she could only assume it was Hiroshi—before her face twisted into an excitement so great, it obviously couldn't be contained.

She turned on a heel, and darted around the corner into the kitchen. "Hiro brought home a _girl_!" she squealed to the unseen brother. "He has a_ girlfriend_, Kan!—"

"Oh, Christ…" Hiroshi groaned, and fought back a blush, determined not to look at the quiet woman as he stalked off after his sister.

"—And she's _really_ pretty, too!" Julia felt own face heat up as she stood alone and awkward in the entranceway. "Come see her!—"

"Oi! Mimi," she heard the older brother hiss, "She's not my girlfriend—and as far as I know, she isn't deaf. Please—wait…where do you think_ you're_ going?"

"I wanna see her," she heard a new voice complain. "Mimi says she's pretty."

Was that a growl? Did they have a dog, too?

"Mimi, Julia's clothes are wet. Can she borrow some of yours until hers are dry?"

There was another squeal of excitement, and Julia couldn't stop the word 'vapid' from running through her mind. '_We'll probably get along fantastically.'_

She jumped when she suddenly realized that the girl was in front of her. RIGHT in front of her.

She leaned back a bit, and smiled. "Er--hello. …I'm Julia Braden."

The young woman grinned, and called back to the kitchen, "And she's polite, too. Oh, she's a _keeper_, Hiro!"

Julia suddenly felt embarrassed _for_ him.

"Hey, Mimi?" he called back, his irritation very thinly veiled. "How about you just focus on getting her some dry clothes, hm?"

Mimi rolled her eyes as she continued grinning—almost predatorily—at her. "Anything for you, Bubba," she teased, seizing the girl's hand and pulling her along as she headed for the stairs opposite the kitchen. "I'm Kimiko, by the way," she said over her shoulder as Julia tripped up the steps. "Most of the time, everyone calls me Mimi though—unless I'm in trouble. Then it's _always_ Kimiko." She stopped suddenly and tossed a wink at the completely befuddled girl. "I don't get in trouble," she whispered before hauling her along again, down a short hallway, second bedroom on the right.

'_This girl…_' she thought, reaching for the right words to describe her, '_is completely overwhelming…_'

The girl was pixie-like with exotic looks like her brother, but it was weird… She couldn't decide if Kimiko—_Mimi_—looked completely innocent, or completely wild…

Stopping before her closet, jammed with clothes, Kimiko released her hand, and turned to face her with a proud grin. "This should work! I mean…you might be a little taller than me, but only by a couple inches, _tops_. That shouldn't matter with dresses or skirts, and luckily for you, I buy my jeans long!"

"Wow…That's a _lot_ of clothes," Julia whispered, fingering sequin halter. "And they're all so pretty…" When the girl beside her fell into a long silence that the woman could already tell was uncharacteristic of her, she looked up expectantly.

Kimiko was staring at her with unabashed adoration. "Marry my brother."

Julia stared back. "Um… I don't think—"

"Oh, come on! You'd absolutely fall in love with him if you haven't already—and he needs a—"

"_Mimi_!" a sudden shout sounded from downstairs, along with the laughter of the other brother. "_Clothes_!"

Julia raised an eyebrow at the closed white door. "Wow… Hiroshi has really good hearing." Kimiko giggled, but didn't comment, instead opting to rifle through her stuffed closet.

"Skirt, dress, or jeans?"

"Um…"

"I have shorts, too, but you're probably too cold—Oh!"

Julia eyed her suspiciously when her amber eyes took on a wicked light.

"I have lingerie…" She wriggled her eyebrows, bursting into laughter when she heard feet stomping up the stairs. "Alright, alright. No lingerie…"

"Actually…" Julia began, smiling at the closed door, and Mimi laughed even harder, but the footsteps continued down the hall, past her room.

"So…any preference?"

She bit her lip thoughtfully and stared are the clothes before her. "Jeans and a t-shirt?"

If anything, Mimi looked even more excited. "I've already got it. It says 'I may be spunky, but I'm more than just one of the guys'."

Julia stared dubiously at the damaged jeans she passed her. "You got all that from a t-shirt?"

"Yes and no. Strip."

She coughed delicately. "What?"

"Well, you can't wear the clothes I've picked out if you're still in that wet dress, silly." Then as an afterthought, "That dress is adorable, by the way."

"Th-thanks…"

She pulled an eggplant-colored cami-bra off its hanger, and tucked it under her arm as she searched for a top to go over it. "See? Fashion is the best way to get to know someone! The only way this could possibly be better is if _Hiro_ was helping you pick out some clothes instead of me."

"Um…"

Mimi frowned thoughtfully, pulling down an olive green wrap-around cardigan. "He_ so_ would have gone with the lingerie. I _know_ it."

* * *

_Another character, another song._

_Julia: "Mr. Jones" by Counting Crows_

* * *

_Wow…I wasn't expecting this chapter to be this long, but it was. So I decided to stop here. Anyway, not the –ideal- meeting of the main characters, but whatever. Also, I originally wasn't all that fond of Kimiko, but she developed a more wicked, meddling personality as I continued writing, and now she's too fun to write._

_Trivia: Kimiko **loves **awkward situations. Miroku tries to avoid her at all cost. _

_Next Chapter: Inuyasha, Kagome, and Kannon meet Julia! _

* * *

_**Quotes of Randomness:**_

"_It was a bad time." --__Going After Cacciato__ by Tim O'Brien_

"_A quick way to start a conversation is to say something like 'What's your favorite color?' A quick way to _end _a conversation is to say something like 'What's your favorite color…person?'" --Demetri Martin_


	4. Q&A

_Chapter 4: Q&A  
_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha. _

* * *

_First off, thank you for the amazing reviews. Between 'The Pain' and its sequel, I've now reached 1000 reviews! I love you guys! Secondly…you __**must**__ read "My Immortal" by XXXbloodyrists666XXX . Even if you've never even _heard_ of Harry Potter. I…don't know what to say about it other than I've never laughed so hard in my life. I was actually crying—sexily, as the brilliant author would say. And the reviews are just as hilarious as the actual 'story'._

_It can easily be found by googling 'worst fanfiction'. It's the first thing that pops up. …I'm not joking._

* * *

_This chapter is dedicated to BowandArrow08, who left me the longest review I've ever seen. Seriously. It was gigantic. And I loved it. . _

* * *

_I just don't know where leading ladies come from.  
I just don't know where they can be found.  
She's opened up just like she really knows me._

_--"Slow Night, So Long" by Kings of Leon_

* * *

She was fully dressed, and she was warm. So she supposed she should be thankful. However, she was fairly certain that the bubbly girl, now sitting behind her playing with her damp curls, was holding her hostage until she admitted her nonexistent feelings for a complete stranger. 

Honestly, she was a bit scared.

'This _is how people wind up dead and stuffed and collected in a dusty old basement._'

Fingers curling around the edges of the cardigan's long sleeves, she sat obediently on the floor as nimble fingers pulled hair away from her face.

"Aha-ha…" she laughed nervously. '_I _hope_ she's not being serious…_'

Kimiko's impatience was enough of an answer. "Well?"

Amazement hit her like a very hard brick out of nowhere. "Oh—you're _not_ joking!"

Mimi clucked her tongue. "Of course I'm not."

Face flushing pink, she stared longingly at the door. "I, um… I don't think…"

Fingers froze in her hair. "So he's _not_ a good kisser?" Mimi sounded worried—horrified even.

_Hello, my name is Uncomfortable Situation. Meet my life-partner, Awkward Questions, and our dog, Slowandpainfuldeath. We've decided we want to get to know you better. We've even brought you a fruit basket._

"I didn't say that—" she rushed to say.

"He _is_ a good kisser, then," she sighed in relief. "Good. It's just that…well… He doesn't date, and… I worry, you know?"

Dislodging the foreign fingers from her hair, Julia pulled away to turn and face the girl. Pale hair brushed against a thin shoulder as she cocked her head to the side, gold eyes bright as her brow furrowed.

Julia almost gave into the sheer innocence that she exuded, almost turned back around to let her continue playing with her hair as though she were still in grade school. "All right," she began patiently, reminding herself that the girl really did mean well, and that she was currently wearing said girl's very nice, very dry, and very warm clothes. "I have _never_ kissed Hiroshi," she informed her slowly.

Kimiko looked crushed. "But! You said—"

"I haven't said_ anything_ about him—I don't _know_ him. I mean…I know his _name_, and I know that he _apparently_ likes classical music. …And he doesn't watch cartoons," she frowned to herself.

Mimi's groan morphed into a giggle. "He didn't scare you away with his boring music, did he?" She sighed. "He's so terrible at impressing girls—I swear."

She had absolutely no idea what to say to that. "I don't…um, think that he was trying to impress me. I mean…I'm pretty sure he thinks I'm crazy."

"Well, everyone in this family is crazy," she quipped happily. "Except for me."—something that Julia wasn't entirely sure she believed—"So you should fit right in!"—yet another thing she wasn't sure was possible.

But she didn't say anything.

Unfolding her legs and popping to her feet in a single, fluent motion—something that shouldn't have been doable, in Julia's opinion—Mimi grabbed the towel hanging on her closet door knob and held it out to the still-kneeling woman. "For your hair," she explained.

"Oh. Thank you."

Kimiko smiled. "Your dress is washing, by the way. And don't worry—I followed the instructions on the tag. You'll have to wait for it to air-dry, though. That may take a while. Which conveniently gives you more time to get to know my brother!"

Sighing, Julia closed her eyes against the headache that was blossoming right behind them. "Mimi…" she began.

"Look. I know what you've said—you're not '_dating'_." She felt the need to roll her eyes and make air-quotations with her fingers at this point. "Fine. But you're _still_ the first girl Hiro's ever brought home. Actually," she corrected, growing more excited by the moment, "you're the first girl either of the boys have brought home. So _clearly_, it's meant to be!"

Julia paused. "Are you…um, taking any medication?" she asked as politely as possible when questioning one's sanity.

Kimiko's smile vanished into a thoughtful frown. "No. I don't get sick. Why?"

"…No reason."

"Oh. Okay."

She laughed suddenly, scrunching her hair dry with the soft towel. "You're weird."

"You are, too," Kimiko grinned back. "Now…you need jewelry to go with your new outfit."

From her spot on the carpet, Julia watched her turn to her bureau and pull open the top right drawer. "I really don't need—"

"Of course you do," she replied dismissively without tearing her attention away from the jewelry drawer. "It'll complete the ensemble." Her brow creased in concentration as she began the arduous task of finding the perfect piece, the last finishing touch. Julia heard her murmuring to herself, "Too bold… Not bold enough… Too pink… _God_, no…"

This went on for quite a few minutes.

"You know…I really don't need to borrow any jewelry. I'm not even leaving the house," she pointed out reasonably.

"Maybe. But you want to look nice for Hiro, don't you?"

'_Oh, not this again…_' There was stray sequin lost in the thick beige carpet, which she plucked and began to pinch mercilessly. "Honestly, I couldn't care less. He's seen me in my waitress uniform—"

"He visits you at_ work_?" the girl gasped, head snapping up to meet blue eyes.

"Um…no."

"…Oh."

Julia smiled wryly, staring at the bent sequin, flashes of silver dazzling her every time it caught the light. "Don't look so disappointed."

"Oh, I'm not," she assured her, tucking a stand of hair behind her ear before frowning. "Well…I mean, I _am_, but that's all right." She turned back to her jewelry, looking up only briefly when her guest stood and began to study the room she was in.

It was mostly bright, deep pinks and oranges with a completely bohemian feel to it. Three paper lanterns were hung randomly throughout the room, the last one lighting upon a wall completely covered in pictures. She made her way to the wall, eyes darting over each picture, lips curving into a small smile.

This girl and family_ and_ friends. A lot of them, she realized with a bittersweet smile.

A flash of silver caught her eye, and she stared at the picture directly before her.

Her jaw dropped.

"Is that…is that_ Hiroshi_?"

Kimiko looked up at the tone of sheer amazement. Julia, with her nose nearly to the wall, was frozen, staring intently at one of the many, many pictures that covered one of her walls. She followed the stunned blue gaze before bursting into giggles. "That one?" she laughed, tapping on the picture of her with her arms around the neck of her brother.

"It _is_?"

Fresh laughter tore from her at Julia's disbelieving stare. "Hiro would _die_ before he did something like that to his hair," she assured her with a huge grin. She twirled away from the wall, swooping upon the camera that rested on her desk. "That's Kannon—my twin. Smile!" she commanded, snapping a picture of the still-shocking woman so suddenly, that Julia was positive she wasn't in most of it. "He's the only one that ever dared to rock the dreads—even then it didn't last long. I'm lucky I got that picture before Papa got a hold of him." She laughed again, whirling around and snapping another picture over her shoulder.

This time Julia was positive she'd managed to miss everything but the carpeted floor.

Julia spared another uncertain look towards the picture. Now she could see the difference in the build, and this boy's—_Kannon's_—face was more open and honest than her new acquaintance's. More overconfident than courteous. And from the very short time she'd known Hiroshi, she was pretty positive he wasn't one for dreadlocks. "So…he's your twin, hm?"

"I'm older," she announced proudly. There was another click right in front of her eyes, and the woman had to blink spots away. "By four minutes. He hates it, but he's the _baby_."

"Being the baby isn't so bad," she told her absently, picking up her discarded towel, and dabbing at her hair some more just for something to do.

"I wouldn't know," Mimi teased with a smirk as she waltzed back to the jewelry, and immediately found the necklace she'd been looking for. "A-ha!" she exclaimed, producing a braided hemp necklace with amethysts woven through it. "I couldn't judge you before," she explained, dipping behind the woman to fasten the choker, "because you weren't_complete_."

"And this necklace completes me, does it?" she asked fondly, reaching up to gingerly touch it as fingers worked quickly at her nape.

Mimi tossed her head back and laughed, a happy, unrestrained amusement. "_No_, silly! That's Hiro's job. Now, turn around and let me see my work," she ordered, pulling at a shoulder with one hand and snatching the towel away with the other.

She twirled around, holding her arms out and ending in a pose. She grinned. "There."

"Look at you!" Kimiko praised, practically glowing as she looked Julia up and down. The young woman blushed when she began to clap. "You're absolutely _hot_. Not slutty-hot, of course—Hiro doesn't go for that kind of thing, but…" She nodded appreciatively at the flustered woman.

"Thanks," she offered with a smile, "but when we go downstairs, could you please keep the 'you're-Hiro's-girl' jokes to a minimum? It's only going to make things awkward. I feel like I know you better than him, and I'm really not all that comfortable—"

Mimi waved her concerns away with a hand. "All right, don't worry about it. Besides, I'm having too much fun dressing you to pick a fight."

"Well, that's good to know."

"You're like a_ Barbie_ doll…!"

She gasped, hands latching onto Mimi's arms. "I used to _love_ Barbie dolls!"

The hanyou laughed.

And when the door opened, Julia turned to see another silver-headed boy stick his head into the room, grinning at them. "Is she decent?" he asked, stepping into the room, closing the door behind him.

"Baka," Mimi said fondly, grinning at the newest guest. "You're supposed to ask first, and _then_ open the door."

"I know." He returned her smirk lazily, before his eyes fell upon the quiet woman. "Holy _shit_… What in the hell did Hiro do to deserve_ you_?" he whispered in, well, reverence if she didn't know any better.

He was definitely Hiroshi's brother, though he lacked the dreadlocks he'd sported in the picture, and he appeared to be a couple years older than he was then, even though he couldn't be older than eighteen. She knew for a fact that he was still in highschool.

Blue eyes thinned on him, and she cocked her head to study him. He was very similar to his brother, but entirely different at the same time. He was a bit too open, a bit too relaxed, his features laced with a natural arrogance that seemed to suit him. Brawn compared to his brother's brains.

Hiroshi, on the other hand, seemed to be a perfect example of Zen, what with the manners he hid behind, the way he always seemed relaxed, confident, but not conceited. Then there were the soft smiles he'd always offer—they were real enough, she'd realized, but something about them reminded her of someone forced to stay up late—nothing was quite as funny at three o'clock in the morning, as it was at midnight. Nothing was quite as funny if you were _tired_.

It suddenly struck her that all three of them had dyed their hair the same color. "You have silver hair, too…" she commented thoughtfully, snapping out of it when he laughed at her.

"Well, yeah," he grinned, rapping her forehead casually as he slid one hand into his pocket. "She's a thinker, huh?" he asked his sister. Julia swatted his hand away and frowned at him.

"Now Kannon—you're going to scare her away!" the younger girl complained, grabbing Julia's wrist to pull her away from him. "Behave."

He waved her admonitions away, and offered a half-apologetic grin. "I was just playing with her, Mimi. Besides—who needs brains when you've got looks like those?"

That…had to be the most _insulting_ compliment she'd ever heard in her life, and she didn't know whether to slap him or blush. "I—I…Where's Hiroshi?" she asked, suddenly feeling like she'd bitten off more than she could chew by accepting his ride. And he was vaguely familiar. Still strange, yes, but more manageable and familiar than these two combined.

Kimiko was overwhelming enough as it was—a rough wave that is completely capable of pulling you under until that one moment you just relax, ride it out, accept it. Mimi she felt she could ride out, accept, but something about the twins together made her feel like she was in the middle of a natural disaster—a hurricane waiting to bring chaos the moment given a chance.

Plus, she was pretty sure that Kannon was staring at her boobs.

Yeah. He was staring at her boobs.

"They're not that impressive," she commented dryly, her gaze thinning yet again.

"Nah, they're perfect on you," he told her before he thought about it. She waited for his words to catch up to him, raising an eyebrow when she heard a quiet 'h'oh shit', gold snapping up guiltily. Kannon offered her a more honest, contrite smile, mussing his own shorter hair as he hunkered down to sit Indian style on Kimiko's bed. "Hah! I guess I really _will_ scare her off… Well, _that_ sucks... I'll be good," he promised, but she remained unconvinced, watching him warily as he combed his fingers through his hair. "Yeah, silver runs in the family. Like it, do you?"

His overconfidence stunned her into smiling, even though she wasn't so sure what to think of him. He reminded her of someone. This room wasn't big enough to house her own brother's big head. "It's not so bad," she admitted, already more at ease now that she felt she was talking to Jackson. "It's a good kind of different. Unlike the Mohawk or the unsanitary dreadlocks. Ew."

His arrogance melted into rigid surprise while Mimi burst into laughter, collapsing on the bed beside him, holding her sides. "Oh, ha _ha_," he muttered, scowling at the giggling girl.

Now feeling strangely more confident and in control, Julia realized that she'd probably _just_ deliberately offended him. "Sorry," she said without sounding very sorry at all—he had been staring at her breasts less than thirty seconds ago, after all. "It's a defense mechanism."

"I'll have you know, my dreads were bitchin'," he sniffed, and she nodded indulgently.

"That still doesn't make them any more sanitary," she mumbled under her breath, positive he wouldn't hear her, and surprised when he defended himself.

"I never stopped bathing," he told her dryly before breaking into a grin. Kimiko sat up beside him, and Julia felt both sets of the intense amber study her. "I'm not sure that Hiro can handle you…"

Apparently that was a compliment.

She tried not to blush again, steeling herself against the awkward comments they were apparently hell-bent on making. "Well…I don't think he _needs_ to be able to handle me. _We-are-not-dating_," she clarified slowly, but as politely as she could while still speaking to them as if they were young children. "This is only my second time even _seeing_ him."

Kannon smirked at her knowingly, everything about him smug—he acted like he'd known her his whole life, and that sort of freaked her out, she wasn't going to lie.

"…You're sort of freaking me out…" she hedged.

He laughed again, glancing to his left at the closed door when a sudden clanging of pots and pans came from downstairs. "About damn time—spent for-fucking-ever on the phone" he muttered. "I'm hungry already. Maybe we can eat before nine tonight."

"Your mother's home?"

"Are you _that_ ready to meet the parents?" he teased, before shooting a knowing look to Kimiko, who giggled silently. "Must be getting serious."

"I don't really know your brother," she shot back, "so I won't feel too bad when I kill him for leaving me alone up here with you two."

Kimiko popped up to seize Julia's hand again. "You must really miss him, huh? I'll take you downstairs, and you can keep him company while he cooks."

"He lives here?—no, wait… He can _cook_?" She didn't know whether to be appalled or amazed. And if she remembered correctly, she'd already told him the most creative thing she could cook was a grilled cheese sandwich. How embarrassing…

"Of course he cooks. He doesn't live here, silly." Kimiko opened the door, and started to pull her back towards the stairs. "How would he eat if he couldn't cook, and how would you two get any alone time if he was with us all the time?"

Kannon wrapped an arm over her shoulders. "You've _so_ seen my brother naked."

Freezing in absolute mortification at the blunt and random triumphant taunt, she was only vaguely aware of the clang of a pot hitting the floor somewhere below.

"I don't even know him," she hissed, pulling her hand from Mimi's loose grasp to shove the boy off of her. It was like trying to force a brick wall over. Completely useless.

"You _want_ to, then."

"Kannon…" There was a certain drip of quiet fury that was laced in the overly calm tone of Hiroshi, as he stuck his head out of the kitchen to glare up at his brother. "Don't you have homework or something you can be doing?"

"Don't you have some_one_ you can be doing?" he called back down the stairs, laughing. This time, though, Kimiko curbed her enthusiasm, frowning at her twin and fully aware of Hiro's cold glower.

"I think that was too much, Kan. Leave them alone," she told him quietly, grabbing _his_ wrist this time, and pulling him away from the stairs, away from Julia, and away from Hiroshi's icy eyes.

"Thank you, Mimi," Hiro told her, a small smile playing at his lips now, as he turned and disappeared back into the kitchen, Kannon's complaints following after him.

"Um." Julia said, as she was once again left alone and awkward. This time in the stairwell. She could hear the murmur of voices behind her, in a room she could only assume was Kannon's, and the sounds of experienced cooking coming from the kitchen, and with a sigh, she sank down on the top step. Closing her eyes, she leaned her temple against the cool wall and waited. For…something—she didn't know. Maybe she was just recovering, collecting herself.

Today had been… She couldn't even think of a word to describe it. Sucky? Horrible? Devoid of all hope? That audition… She wondered how she would have done, had she made it there on time. There was always a chance she wouldn't get it, but she couldn't help but remind herself that it really would have done wonders for her career.

It _could_ have been her 'big' _break_.

It _could_ have led to other, greater things. Greater things than serving rude, sexist men their 'afternoon delights'.

But here she was at some strangers' house, with her odd 'savior', his sexual deviant of a brother, and their sweet, devastating sister, who was so happy, she appeared to be medicated. To make matters worse, all three of them were outlandishly beautiful—silver and gold. Celestial, almost—ancient.

She slid her face forward a bit, effectively moving the drying curls that provided a barrier between her cheek and the cool wall.

"I'm sorry about that."

She opened her eyes. Hiroshi was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at her, his hair pulled back into a low ponytail, pulling the still-damp hair away from his sharp features.

"It'd be a lie if I said they weren't always like that, so I won't say it. They are."

When she realized she was blushing, her face grew even hotter in her humiliation.

He sighed when he saw her red face. "I'm willing to forget that happened if you are," he proposed judiciously.

"Yes—" she blurted immediately, sitting up straight now as he chuckled at her.

"Alright then. You know…you don't have to sit on the stairs by yourself," he told her casually, gold meeting blue. "There's a television in the living room—" He pointed to his right. "Or you can sit in the kitchen while I finish this up."

She picked herself up, and slipped quietly down the stairs, peering around him to look into the living room before she wandered over to look around.

"I'll be in the kitchen."

She nodded as she looked at the plush tan leather furniture with the overstuffed cushions. "Okay." The creamy beige carpet made the room seem bright, warm, and everything about the living room seemed…natural. End tables made of weathered driftwood held vases of winter flowers and family photos.

'_Well that's…strange_,' she thought, picking up a picture of a young black-haired woman, no more than twenty, with her arms wrapped around a small, silver-headed child—Hiroshi—as they sat in a sandbox. She was laughing, one of her hands cupping his chin, guiding his eyes to the camera. The same woman, laughing again, as Kannon and Mimi held her in place, blowing raspberries on each of her cheeks. She still looked twenty, even though the twins appeared to be in their early teens.

And then there was another man—this one about Hiroshi's age. Maybe a couple years older, at best. He was sitting in a tree, obviously unaware that there was a camera pointed at him. Another of him and Hiro-- '_Holy…Good _God_…_' She put the picture down, and looked around the room, eyes freezing on the stone wall over the fireplace. Two swords were lying across hooks in the stacked stone, right above something…_something_.

'_A…_boomerang_—what?_'

So they _did_ have swords—more apparently, because the one of the swords in the picture defied gravity and was most certainly not one of the old normal-sized ones hanging on the wall. And the one Hiroshi held… Well, it was just too long.

Tearing her eyes away from the weapons, she walked to the kitchen. Hiroshi, barefoot in gray sweats and a white t-shirt, was chopping vegetables, and she took a moment to admire his precision and speed.

"Are vegetables _that_ interesting?" he asked, his voice light, though he never turned around.

She walked around the counter and stared around him for a minute before she leaned back against the counter behind her. "I would have lost a finger by now—actually, I'd be proud if it was only _one_ finger."

He laughed, and moved on to the next carrot. "It's not so difficult."

"Be careful. You may offend me."

"I apologize. If it'd make you feel better, I'm sure we have the stuff to make grilled cheese. You're welcome to use the kitchen as you wish."

She glared at his back, folding her arms over her chest. "_You_…are not a very nice person."

He grabbed a potato and tossed it gently over his shoulder; her hands shot out automatically to catch it. "Try to peel it. The peeler is in the drawer right behind you."

"I _know_ how to peel a potato," she sniffed, but pushed away from the counter to search for the peeler. '_What…in the world is a peeler?_' She stared at the collection of sharp knives and assorted cooking instruments. "…By peeler, do you mean really sharp knife?" she asked, tugged on his sleeve. His eyebrows shot up in surprise, but he didn't laugh—which she was grateful for. "Because that's how I always do it at the diner."

"Well," he said hesitantly, "if you feel more comfortable using a knife, then you're welcome to. A potato peeler is safer though," he told her, reaching around to pull out a razor-like instrument and setting it on the counter near a sharp cutting knife. "And you know…you don't have to cook if you don't want to. You just looked a bit bored standing there."

She smiled down at the already washed potato, and picked up the peeler. "No, this is fine."

She looked up when she felt him looking over her shoulder. "Other way," he told her, twisting the instrument in her hands. "Now, press the blade into the potato, slant it downward, and drag it along. Watch your fingers."

"I feel completely incompetent right now," she muttered, glaring briefly at the potato she'd just smiled at. White began to appear, becoming more prominent with each swipe she took, the peelings forming a brown pile on the hard surface of the counter.

"Well, it's understandable if no one ever showed you these things. You aren't born knowing the best way to peel a potato," he quipped.

"But it's a_ potato_," she complained, whirling around to show him the ugly root, as though he'd never seen one before.

"Yes. I'm aware. …I gave it to you."

She frowned at him. "I should know how to peel a potato with a potato peeler." Her dry tone clearly dared him to argue with her. He didn't. So she turned back to her potato. She hadn't managed three more swipes when the silence grew too much for her. She had so many questions—she'd always been more curious than was healthy. "You know…I still don't know you. And I'm helping you make…whatever—"

"Oden," he supplied.

"—in your parents' house."

He smiled at her over his shoulder, pausing briefly in his chopping. "I feel that I know a fair deal about you. What constitutes as 'knowing' to you?"

"Details."

Beneath his knife, the sixth carrot fell to pieces. He'd always hated using knives… They were so slow, and his claws were so fast. "What sort of details?"

"Well…mind if I ask you some personal questions?" she asked her potato.

Somehow, she heard him shrug. "Go ahead."

She thought for a minute. She had about fifteen questions at least, but she didn't know which one to ask first—and then she realized the one that had her the most curious. "So…" she began casually, swiping her potato again, "is that your real hair color?" She turned around in surprise when she'd stunned him into laughing. It sounded different—more open than before, genuinely amused.

He was grinning at her. "_That_ is the first question you're asking? I was nearly positive you'd ask me more about my job—or about our first meeting."

She turned around to hide her flushed face—because she _had_ thought about asking those questions, too. But first—the more important matters. She shrugged. "I was curious. It's a very unusual color, and all of you have it. Done!" She showed him the peeled potato.

"Great. Now rinse it with cold water, and I'll cut it into chunks. There are more potatoes beside me if you still feel like peeling."

She handed him the clean, wet potato, and grabbed another, watching his back expectantly.

"Yes. It's my real hair color."

She paused thoughtfully. "Oh."

He chuckled, grabbing one of the potatoes now that he'd gone through all of the carrots. "You sound disappointed."

"No," she gasped. "I was just so sure it was dyed. I've never seen that color before—"

"Grey, you mean?" he asked, looking over his shoulder to quirk an eyebrow at her.

"Yes—_no_," she corrected quickly. "I've seen grey hair, and that _really_ doesn't look _grey_. And you can't be older than twenty five. How would you have grey hair?"

"Mm."

"No, it's…" she paused, staring at the ponytail that ran between his shoulder blades. The thinnest wires of spun silver… "Silver." Even Kannon had told her that it ran in the family.

"Yes."

"All right. Next question: how do you know how to cook?"

She sounded so disgruntled and half-irritated that he'd chuckled again. "My mother thought it'd be useful for me to know, so she's been teaching me since I was a child. And I believe she felt she'd have more in common with me in the kitchen—a common ground, so to speak."

"So you learned to cook to spend time with your mother?" she clarified with a smile. This guy was unnaturally sweet. Her smile faded a bit when she noticed that his back seemed tense. "Hey…you okay?"

"What?" he asked, pulling from his thoughts to raise his brow at her. "Oh. Yes. Are you still on that potato?" he teased, showing her two he'd already managed to peel since she'd picked up her newest root.

She shot him a half-hearted glare. "You must feel extremely proud of yourself."

He shrugged and returned to peeling the last potato. "Next question."

"Oh. Right. Um…" she winced, and cast an uncertain look his way. Chances were, this question would offend him, but dammit! She wanted to know! "Okay, don't be mad," she began, and he emptied his hands to turn around and lean back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest. He looked amused. '_Let's see how long _that_ lasts…_'

"This sounds like it might be interesting," he replied lightly, waiting.

"Er…_something_ like that… I mean…I'm pretty sure you aren't, but I…don't know. Either way, don't be mad," she pleaded one last time, staring up at him.

He smiled down at her. "…Now it sounds like I should be worried."

She took a deep breath, steeled herself for such a personal question, and pressed forward. "Are you…gay?"

It felt like all the air had suddenly been sucked from the room, and he stared down at her with wide eyes, clearly unprepared for that kind of question as loud, raucous laughter sounded from upstairs.

'…_See, _this_ is what you get for acting like a prude. Can't say you weren't asking for this._'

'_You,_' he commanded, still staring at her, mouth open. '_Shut up._' His golden gaze bore into her, and he closed his mouth. "Pardon?" he asked tightly, and she winced again.

"I mean," she hurried to say, "there's nothing wrong if you are—I don't really care one way or the other. I was just curious—"

He rolled his eyes, and though he didn't seem too happy with her question, he didn't seem angry either. A bit annoyed maybe, but not angry. "No. I'm not gay."

'_Kannon's never gonna let you live this down._'

He frowned at the kitchen doorway.

"Oh, okay—it's just…you know…" She shrugged.

His brow furrowed in confusion, and she nearly laughed at him. "No, I _don't_ know."

"It's just…you're polite, you listen to classical music, you can cook—"

He still looked a bit disgruntled. "Now you're just stereotyping," he pointed out, dinner all but forgotten now that she'd put her own potato aside.

'_And he's pretty,_' she thought, studying him with a frown. His eyes widened again.

"_Pretty_?" he echoed, sounding and looking more than a bit horrified.

'_H'oh crap! I said that _out loud' Julia, for her part, honestly didn't know how to amend the situation. "Um…" she said, and he snorted—the most honest sound she'd heard from him.

"I am not '_pretty'_," he grumbled, turning back to his sliced vegetables.

"Okay," she agreed weakly. "Is this…another one of those moments you just want to forget happened?"

"Yes."

"Thank God. Next question—"

"I think you've asked enough questions," he grumbled, and she realized he was…pouting? "It's my turn now."

She laughed. "If it will stop your sulking."

He ignored her and added a handful of vegetables to the soup stock in the pot. "You're obviously American. So what are you doing here?" He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye.

"My father got a job here when I was twelve," was all she said.

There was something in her tone that warned him to tread lightly—some sort of fury or sadness or regret.

Two more handfuls of vegetables fell into the huge pot of stock. "Oh? What does he do for a living?"

She turned back around to her potato, and more shavings fell. "He came over here to teach English and literature to children."

"Well, that sounds respectable."

"I suppose. He hasn't really done anything in a while though."

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye when she rinsed the freshly peeled potato off and placed it on the counter beside him. Knowing better than to press the subject, he asked the next question. "How old are you?"

She seemed grateful for the easy question. "Twenty-one. What about you?"

He shook his head smugly. "I still have one question left. Do me a favor, will you? Two drawers to your left—the measuring spoons."

She obediently opened the drawer, fishing around until she found a ring of clear blue measuring spoons. "Found them."

"Great. Will you please mix in four teaspoons of sugar?" He nodded to a silver canister under one of the windows.

She grabbed the canister and carried it to the pot to fish out the sugar as he dumped more vegetables in. "That's a lot of food," she commented absently, staring over the rim.

"We eat a lot," he reasoned, and reached for the bottle of sake beside him, dumping in a considerable amount.

"So… is that your real hair color?" He repeated her earlier question with a grin, and she rolled her eyes but smiled, handing him the soy sauce when he pointed towards it.

Smile fading, she stared at the loose black curl she fingered. "Actually, no." This seemed to surprise him, she noticed. "I colored it after I started working at the diner." She sounded none to happy about it, and Hiroshi's eyebrows shot up before he barked out a laugh.

"You changed your hair to seem less attractive!" he accused with a grin before he turned back to the task at hand. His grin widened when she huffed. "I suppose it didn't work, hm?"

"Why Hiroshi," she purred, teased, taking the soy sauce he handed her and placing it back in it's rightful place, "Are you flirting with me?" She batted her eyelashes for dramatic effect.

'_Holy damn…_' the voice commented, but Hiroshi ignored it.

He chuckled again, and shook his head. "I'm not sure I even know how to flirt," he sighed with a grin. "But, because it will bother me, what _is_--?"

She cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Nope. You've used all of your questions. My turn again—you'll just have to wait."

Tossing her a half-hearted glare over his shoulder, he began to peel the eggs his mother had boiled earlier. "You said your brother has red hair," he reminded her as she reached around him to grab a carrot slice that lay forgotten on the cutting board.

"That doesn't mean_mine_ is," she reminded him before she popped the carrot into her mouth. "Anyway—my turn now." She smiled cheekily, grabbing a few more pieces of raw carrot before leaning back against her counter. "How old are you?"

"I turned twenty three two weeks ago."

"Oh… Happy Belated Birthday to you, too, then."

"Thank you. One more question left—then it's my turn again." He grabbed a radish-looking thing and chopped it up.

"What? No—that was only my first question! I still have two left," she corrected. "Nice try, though."

He didn't even bother to look at her as he spoke. "No, you asked if I was flirting with you—that was your first question," he reminded her, fully aware of her pale eyes narrowing.

"That _so_ did not count," she protested heatedly, and he lifted up his hands in surrender when she crossed her arms over her chest. "And you know it."

"All right, all right," he conceded with raised brows and a small, placating smile. "You can have _two_ more questions—even though it's cheating," he added quietly, chuckling when she scoffed at him.

"I don't cheat," she sniffed before eating another carrot piece. "And you give up_way_ too easily—"

'_Told you_,' it snickered.

'…_Shut up._'

"Now, you ready for my questions?"

"Hold on," he told her, wiping crumb from fish cakes from his hands with a rag. "Let me brace myself…" He leaned against the counter again, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited. "All right. Go ahead."

She worried her lip and stared into space for a brief moment before her eyes met his again. "Are one of those swords in there yours?"

"You saw those, hm?" he asked, but didn't give her a chance to answer. "No. One's Father's, and one's Kannon's. Mine stays at my house."

"So you all know how to play, um…_fight_ with swords… That seems like a much more interesting hobby than TV."

"Well, Mimi uses the Hiraikotsu—you saw that boomerang in there, didn't you?" he asked with a grin.

Julia laughed at the image his ridiculous joke left in her mind. That boomerang was taller than the girl, and probably four times as heavy. "How old were you when you started training?"

Smile fading a bit, he shrugged and turned back to the remaining fish cakes to be thrown into the pot. "I got Gintsume when I was almost ten. My father started training me right after that."

"Wow…that's…pretty young," she said slowly. "When my brother was ten, he was playing with G.I. Joes."

"G.I….?

"Joes—action figures."

"Oh."

"Anyway… Your turn."

He smiled at her over his shoulder. "It is, isn't it? Well, you know what I was going to ask. By the way, would you like something to drink? I just realized I didn't ask you before."

She suddenly realized how thirsty she was. She'd skipped lunch to go to the audition—and she'd never been much of a breakfast person. "Please."

"No problem. Anything in particular?"

She laughed. "Anything with either caffeine or alcohol would be great, but I'm not choosey."

He chuckled again, and headed to the refrigerator. "I'm afraid Mother makes a point of allowing no alcohol in her house for anything other than cooking purposes. We have sodas, though. Or you can tackle what's left of the sake…"

"Soda is fine." She stared happily at the canned drink he placed in her hands a moment later. "Thank you! …And I'm a blonde. Well, a reddish blonde," she corrected with an absent wave of her free hand, and he stared at her, studied her before he nodded.

"I can see it."

There was a pop and a fizzed sigh as the tab was pulled up. "Turns out no one takes a blonde waitress aspiring to be an actress seriously—but dark hair isn't much better," she told him wryly, wistfully before taking a sip.

He frowned thoughtfully, and fell into a silence interrupted only by the simmering dish behind him.

She felt his eyes on her and blushed when he didn't look away. Turning the can in her hands, she forced a smile. "Two more questions," she reminded him.

"Not being taken seriously—is that what bothers you most?"

Laughing nervously, she put her can down, leaning back and bracing herself on the counter. "What an _awkward_ question…" she mused. "And no. I mean, of course it bothers me—" she rushed to say when he raised an eyebrow. "But my pet peeve is lying. I hate it when people lie to me."

"And yet you want to act," he deliberated, offering her a smile when she flushed again.

"Well…" she said slowly, carefully, "_then_ I'm someone else. I get to step away from myself and my memories and my values and my _life_. So I can lie if I want, then."

"So it's an escape."

It wasn't a question, she noticed, and set her can aside. "I suppose it is. Don't you ever want to step outside your life? Wander what it'd be like to be someone else?"

'_This girl…_'

'_She's weird as shit, isn't she?_'

He studied her silently. '_Yes. She is._'

'_But she's not crazy after all._'

Offering her a tepid smile and trying to ignore just how close to home she'd hit, he told her "Yes" and turned to adjust the knobs on the stove behind him. '_No, she's not crazy. But we might be._'

Hours later, Julia found herself lying on her belly on the living room floor playing Life with Mimi; Hiroshi sprawled across the couch, watching the news, and Kannon sitting in the leather chair behind her, making inappropriate comments such as, "If I were playin', I'd have to get a second car to fit all my kids. Am I right?" and "Hey—can you have more than one woman?"

"I'm going to laugh," Hiroshi commented lightly without tearing his gaze away from the television, "when you get married to a librarian or a math teacher."

Kannon looked offended. "Dude. No."

"That's right," Mimi muttered as she spun the wheel. "When would he ever get a chance to meet one?"

"Not you, too," he complained, tossing a pillow at her.

"Kannon! You're gonna mess the board up! And like you've ever been into a library," she pointed out.

"I've been to math class before," he reminded her.

"So you're going after our teacher, are you? Kannon, I had no idea you were into older women," she teased. "_Much_ older women."

"Mimi…"

"With grey hair—almost the shade of yours!"

"Mimi…"

"And saggy boobs—oh,_gotta_ love the sag—"

Another pillow launched itself towards her face, and she propped herself on one elbow to bat it away with a free hand. "Bitch."

Hiroshi looked up from the couch. "Oi. Watch it."

"You're a bitch, too, Hiro," he called carelessly, crossing his arms behind his head as he leaned back.

"Am I _really_ going to have to get off the couch just to put you back in your place?" he sighed. "Do you _really_ want to embarrass yourself in front of company? Think hard, Kannon."

"No. Stay where you are. Wouldn't want to have to _own_ you in front of your new girl, now would I?"

The older hanyou snorted. "I've never seen you beat anyone. Much less _own_ them."

"At least I've never lost to Uncle."

"That's because you've never fought Uncle. …Baka."

Kannon snagged a spare car from the board, clenching it in his palm. "He's ancient, Hiro. How can you lose to some old geezer?"

Rolling his eyes, Hiroshi sat up to pin his brother with a bored stare, Mimi and Julia now ignoring the exchange.

The game of Life went on.

"Father's lost to Uncle. How the hell do you expect to—"

The door opened and shut soundly. "What sort of lies has that bastard been feeding you?" came a gruff voice from the doorway.

Mimi leapt to her feet, tabs saying 'life' getting mixed together. Julia stared at them sadly. She'd been winning.

"Papa!" the girl called happily, running to leap onto his back when the man came around the corner. Julia's eyebrows shot up—there was no way he was their father. For God's sake…was he even twenty-five? She watched with wide eyes as he caught the girl with an easy grin. Other than the couple of inches he lacked, he looked nearly identical to Hiroshi, in her opinion. Both had long hair, though the other's was wilder, as was something about his expression, his eyes, maybe. Hiroshi's features, on the other hand were sharper, his expression more resigned.

"Hiro's been saying Uncle kicked your ass," Kannon offered with a smirk. "Told him it was a bunch of horse shit, but…"

"You're right. The _loyal_ son," he muttered, glaring briefly at Hiroshi before turning his attentions back to his only daughter. "Hey, Mimi—you break up with that bastard yet?"

"Stop it, Papa," she admonished, slapping his shoulder as he let her slide off his back. "He's not nearly as bad as you make him out to be."

A pronounced snort told her his opinion on the matter, but he didn't press any further. "Oi, pup. Didn't expect to see you so soon. Who's the girl?" He spared her a cursory glance before he made his way back towards the kitchen, Hiroshi following after him.

Mimi stared at Julia incredulously. "Well?"

"…What?"

"Go after them, baka! Introduce yourself."

When Kimiko's gaze thinned into the first glare she'd received from her, Julia got up without complaint.

"…Braden," she caught Hiro saying as she stepped into the bright kitchen. "Julia, this is my father."

She held out her hand, the hanyou staring at it for a moment before he took it. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Takenawa."

He snorted and released her hand to devote his attention to the newly retrieved water bottle in his grasp. "Aw, hell—don't call me 'Mr. Takenawa'. That's my bastard of a brother. It's Inuyasha."

"O-oh…" She didn't really know what else to say.

"She's Hiroshi's new _girlfriend_!" Mimi called from the living room, where she was unable to see the two glares directed at her—though blocked by a wall. "Isn't she _gorgeous_? I dressed her!"

His black eyebrows raised slowly, and he stared quietly at the girl for a moment, before his eyes found his son's. "Girlfriend, huh?"

Hiroshi rolled his eyes. "No. I found her crying in the rain—"

"After _you_ soaked me with your gas guzzler," she shot back with pink cheeks before she could stop herself. She felt Inuyasha's eyes flick back to her before settling on Hiroshi's once again.

"Yes," Hiro replied calmly. "That, too."

"So you don't know each other?" he asked suspiciously as Kimiko slid off of his back. "And you got into his _car_?"

Julia pulled back a bit at his tone. It was like he was just realizing she was some mentally-incapacitated toddler. "Um..."

"You _do_ realize that there's a string of murders going on in the area, right?"

She stared back with wide eyes. '_He…he really does think I'm _stupid_… I'm a young woman; therefore, I've never heard of a news station before, is _that_ it?_'

"Father," Hiroshi began with a sigh, "I think you've effectively intimidated her." Inuyasha stared appraisingly at the wide-eyed girl.

"I-I feel a bit retarded now," she confirmed quietly, her expression and stance seemingly frozen as she leaned away from him, though he was a good five feet away. This family was just ridiculous when it came to familiarity issues. She wondered if they treated all strangers like they'd known them their whole lives.

Inuyasha snorted again, unscrewing the top from his water bottle. "Keh. You should. That was a hella stupid thing you did."

"But they _do_ know each other," Mimi interjected stubbornly, still unseen from the living room. "And what's Hiro going to do, _hm_? _Anyone_ can tell he's a sweet guy."

"We didn't know each other," Hiroshi corrected. "Not really. She's a waitress at Anne's Diner. I saw her _one_ time and asked her a few questions."

"No shit…" Inuyasha murmured slowly, his brows raised. He remembered that day. Sesshoumaru had given Hiro hell for questioning this girl. "So you're the one I heard over the phone—apple pie, right?" he tossed her another glance before turning back to the cupboards, pulling out a cup of ramen. "Well, we don't have apple pie, but Hiro's not a bad cook."

"We're about to eat, you know," Hiroshi asked wryly, and Inuyasha sent him a short look that told him he really didn't give a damn.

"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, tearing the wrapper from the cup. "You talk to your mother today?"

Folding his arms over his chest, he watched Inuyasha make his way to the sink. "I called her around lunchtime when I first got here. She told me to go ahead and start dinner because she was going to be running a little late."

The hanyou grunted, setting his ramen aside to grab the phone hanging on the wall.

"So," Kimiko began, tossing Julia a brilliant grin as she emerged through the doorway, "do you like to shop?"

"Yes."

"Yes!" Mimi cheered. "Because we're going. Soon. What about food?"

Julia, now much more accustomed to Kimiko, fell right in with her. "I _love_ food!"

"Me, _too_! I'll bet you love summer, too, right?"

"It's only my favorite season!"

"Mine, _too_!"

"Oh, God," Hiro groaned. '_Ask them if they like breathing_._ Or if they like puppies,_' the voice snickered quietly. Beside him, he heard his mother answer her cell.

"Oi, 'Gome—what time are you leavin' the hospital? … Because I'm gonna come get you." There was another pause, and Inuyasha rolled his eyes. "Don't care, wench—have you seen the weather out there?"

"Tell Mama I said 'hi'!"

Inuyasha glanced at his daughter. "Mimi says 'hi'," he grumbled. "'She says 'she loves you'."

"I love her, too!"

"I'm not playing messenger right now. Yeah—you can just sit your ass back in a chair and wait until I get there. I'm on my way now." His scowl melted into a smug smirk. "Bitch," he teased, and Hiroshi new that they'd resorted to their favorite pastime of 'Who has the best names?'. His eyes widened, the smirk becoming a grin as his son began coughing politely. "Jesus, Kagome. The kids are in here."

He laughed when she hung up on him and placed the phone back on the receiver. "I'm going to go get Kagome and haul her ass back. See you in a few minutes," he told them as he left the kitchen and, moments later, the house.

"Well, that was…interesting," Julia commented lightly, looking up at the hanyou, who snorted.

Kimiko, however, sighed dreamily. "They're so romantic…"

"Mama and Papa are the most warped couple ever," Kannon muttered, stalking past Hiro to peek into the steaming pot. "Dammit, Hiro—I'm _hungry_."

"Of course you are. You didn't raid my fridge today," he retorted, but grabbed Inuyasha's unopened ramen and tossed it to his brother. "Here, Kan. Mimi, will you please go ahead and set the table?"

Julia stepped away from his side when the girl nodded and walked off. "I'll help you, Mimi—Oh, and we should take care of Life, too. It's all over the place now."

Kimiko giggled. "Guess we'll never know who won, huh?"

"You messed up the board on purpose!"

"…No, I didn't."

"I was her husband!" Kannon said, smirking at his brother. "I drove her car. We make some damn good looking babies."

"Um…they were colored pegs. Shapeless, colored pegs."

Kimiko came to her defense when Hiroshi only chuckled at the claim. "Nah-uh, Kan—it was _Hiro_. You goober."

Julia decided to block out everything at that point, and went about setting the table without hearing another word.

* * *

As uncomfortable as the rest of the family initially made her feel, Julia couldn't remember why when she found herself face to face with their young mother, a woman that exuded a natural and welcome calm. Maybe it was because her features were normal, maybe it was her disarming smile, but the dark-haired woman was a welcome sight. 

"Hello, you must be Julia." She lost all reservation at the woman's bright smile. "Inuyasha told me that Hiroshi brought a friend for dinner."

"Yes ma'am. It was sort of an accident, and I really didn't mean to stay this long—"

Kagome set a light hand on her shoulder, and offered a comforting squeeze. "Oh, we're happy to have you. I'm _delighted_ actually. And I'm Kagome (please drop the ma'am)."

"Thank you."

She tossed her a wink, releasing her shoulder. "No problem. I hope Hiro remembered his manners. My other children can't be helped," she teased, pinching Kannon's side playfully as he pecked his mother's cheek in passing. "Hey, sweetie."

"I resent that," he drawled with a smirk. "Hey, Mama."

"Oh, yes. Actually… I haven't ever seen a guy with manners like him. He even parked his car in the middle of the road because his mother 'would kill him' if he left me out there in the rain."

"She would have," he mumbled as he stepped around her to start dipping oden into the bowls.

"I would have," she confirmed, grey eyes bright with good humor as she watched him. "Thank you for having dinner ready, by the way."

"Thank you for lunch," he countered.

"Be honest. If I hadn't sent you lunch, would you have bothered to leave your office long enough to eat?"

"Yes, Mother. I would have eaten. Ignore whatever Father tells you."

She grabbed a bowl from his hands and began to carry it to the table. "Inuyasha tells me that you've decided to take the week off."

"Did he?" He snorted. "I didn't _decide _anything," he told her, handing another bowl to Julia. "My hands were tied on the matter."

"Good for him. You work too hard, sweetie."

"Mother. Please."

She sighed, but relented, walking back to accept another bowl. "How's school going?"

Julia looked from Kagome to Hiroshi as she took the next bowl. "You go to school?"

The miko looked surprised, pausing in the middle of the kitchen, steaming bowl heating her hands. "Oh, he didn't tell you? He's so smart—top in his class, apparently—"

"Mother," he sighed.

"And he's modest," she added slyly, smirking at her son.

"What are you majoring in? How to be a Mafia Kingpin?" Julia teased, staring up at him and earning a confused look from his mother.

He chuckled, dipping the last bowl. "You know… I checked, but unfortunately they didn't offer that as a major. I'm afraid I had to go with Crime Scene and Criminal Investigation."

There was a sudden clash, clang, and a final crash, and Kagome stiffened, staring at the empty kitchen doorway, emotions passing over her face more quickly than Julia could decipher them.

Beside her, Hiroshi groaned, and wisely disguised his chuckles as coughs when his mother shot him a warning look before stomping out of the room.

"Uh-oh," Mimi whispered.

"Is everything all right?" Julia asked hesitantly.

Hiroshi merely nodded to the empty doorway. "Wait for it. Three…two…"

It only took a moment for all hell to break loose. "Inuyasha, please tell me that wasn't—..._Have you two lost your minds_?! What…Wha—Oh my God, Inuyasha. Put those away in this _house_. And we have company! And—in the _house_? Kannon! I have half a mind to send you to eat in your room."

"Aw, I didn't mean nothing by it, Mama." Even Julia could hear the amusement and impenitence in his smooth voice.

"Right. You can just pick up all the pieces of that vase. And after dinner you can glue it back together."

"Keh!"

"Keh," she fired back, and there was the distinct sound of a man being shoved backwards into a chair with an 'oof'. "Don't 'keh' me, Inuyasha. My mother gave us that vase. She'd be crushed if she knew you broke it with your stupidity."

"Oi! Your mother's used to me breaking the stuff she gives us by now. Anyway…I didn't break it. …Kannon did."

"Oh, whatever, Old Man—" Kannon complained. "That's what happens when you swing your sword like a _bat_."

"I was getting ready to lodge it up your—"

"—What makes you two bakas think the living room is an appropriate place to do this? Why not outside? Hm? Why in _my_ living room?"

Julia nudged Hiroshi's ribs. "Your mother can be a bit scary, too… Your whole family can, actually."

"You don't have to tell me," he muttered dourly. "I live with this every day."

"…It's raining outside…" Inuyasha tried to reason innocently.

Hiroshi sighed. "Come on, Julia, Mimi. You can go ahead and start eating if you're hungry. This may take a while." He and his sister alone heard his mother whisper 'sit'.

But even Julia heard him hit the ground.

"Poor Papa," Mimi giggled.

"Well, shit, bitch. You made me break their board game."

Hiroshi raised a brow at the girls as he sank into a chair. "I thought you put the game away."

"...Oops."

* * *

_Okay... So this was the craziest chapter I think I've ever had to write. It started out with 'crazy' and just sort of warped into 'batshit insane', somewhere along the way. But I hope that was enough Inuyasha and Kagome to hold you over for a little while. We'll see them more, of course, but this was a pretty 'meet the family' centric chapter. And Julia and Hiro are now well on there way to becoming friends._

_Trivia: Kannon is actually really good at math, but he doesn't understand the importance of it--he aspires to be a film director._

_Next chapter: Julia breaks into Hiroshi's house? Whutlol! -.- _

* * *

**_Quotes of Randomness:_**

_(After Matt's apartment was just blown up --Live Free or Die Hard)  
Matt's friend: Hey, Matt, I just downloaded that new copy of Killzone, the one that's not out yet. You wanna play?  
Matt Farrel: No, but good luck at the bad timing awards. _

_"I heard somebody say, 'Where's (Nelson) Mandela?' Well, Mandela's dead. Because Saddam killed all the Mandelas." --George Bush (L.O.L. Bush...WHY ARE YOU SO FUNNY? Btw...Nelson Mandela is still alive...)_


	5. The Upside of Breaking and Entering

_Chapter 5: The Upside of Breaking and Entering _

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha._

* * *

_Mk, I absolutely love you guys--thank you for the wonderful reviews! I tried to update as soon as I could, but I'm still not completely satisfied with the chapter. Too much dialogue, me thinks... _

_So I was watching Good Luck Chuck the other day, when I saw Jessica Alba's clumsy, awkward character. My first thought: __'…__**That's **_Julia_!' True story._

* * *

_T__hat's not a riot; that's a feast--let's eat!  
And I will remember your name and face  
On the day you are judged by the funhouse cast,  
And I will rejoice in your fall from grace  
With a cane through the sky like "none shall pass"_

_--"None Shall Pass" by Aesop Rock  
_

* * *

He sat on the carpeted floor of his living room, a large map of the city spread out before him, yellow folders splayed across the floor at his sides. '_The first girl was found _here_—_' he marked a small red 'X' on the detailed paper. '_The scent began in the middle of the street where they were dropped off, and ended at the subway station._' 

'_Sesshoumaru already has the locations mapped out. Why are we doing this again?_'

'_I don't give a damn if that bastard has the murders mapped out by_ interpretive dancing_—I think better when I do it myself._'

'…_Interpretive dancing?_'

'…_Just shut the fuck up and let me think in peace,_' he though shortly, marking another 'X' on the map.

'_What's there to think about? There haven't been any leads. These bastards are slick—_'

A growl welled up in his throat. '_These bastards are murdering pups. And the parents are useless as _shit_. No help at all. You'd think that with their own kids dismembered, they'd be a little more forthcoming, but…_' He very nearly snapped his marker in half, but remembered to loosen his grip before that could happen. It was just difficult to imagine losing your own pups and not wanting to absolutely brutalize whoever was responsible.

They grieved, of course. The victims' parents were always devastated, but they were still hiding something, or so he thought. He'd seen them, he'd watched them. There was just something about the way they held their other children closer as they walked down the street, eyes always opened and watching. Humans always locked their door. Youkai didn't bother, but they were always on guard.

And the brothers or sisters of the victims—they always slept in their parents' bedroom, regardless of whether they were youkai, hanyou, or human.

Maybe the children weren't randomly chosen. Or maybe it was natural to be that paranoid after losing a pup—God knows he was for quite a while after the whole episode with Nazakaki.

'_Who else is gonna do this? Huh?_'

'_Well… You could ask Hiro back a couple days early. You know as well as I do he'd jump at the chance to work on this case—even on a Friday night. Hell, you could call him at three in the _morning_, and he'd be here in two minutes._'

'_No,_' he thought immediately. '_He's entirely too wrapped in this case—_'

'_Says the hanyou at home on a Friday night lost in maps and files._'

But he could afford to lose himself in work, couldn't he? After all, his job was normally pretty cut and dry. He was given a name or a scent to follow, and he captured them. Or, if they resisted to the point of violence—and they most often did—he killed them. They were too far gone, anyway.

But now there were no names, and there were no scents to follow. And Hiroshi forfeited all of his free time to the case, so much so that Inuyasha hadn't even told Kagome that she worried too much when she started packing an extra lunch for Hiroshi. But the pup was right—he knew his own limits better than anyone. And he was certainly strong enough; he didn't need coddling.

But still—'_We agreed on the week, so he's taking the week. He can go back to work on Monday._'

An involuntary smirk lit his lips when arms crossed his neck from behind. "Thought you were taking a shower, wench."

She peered over his shoulder at the map, blinking when he closed a folder before she could make out the pictures. "I will in a minute. What are you doing?"

"Planning our next vacation," he told her dryly. "I'm working, wench, what does it look like?" Another smirk when she huffed at him, though she still refused to release him.

"I was just asking. And you know I hate it when you bring work home…" she reminded him, pressing herself against his back as she tried to take a closer look at the map. "What are all those red 'X's?"

He ignored her question, and began his daily goal of irritating her. "And you know _I_ hate it when you bring _your_ work home," he shot back half-heartedly, and her arms unwound themselves from his neck.

"Which is why I don't," she muttered, narrowing her eyes on him when he tossed her a grin over his shoulder. "Though there _are_ some pretty cute guys I run into every day. Tore a muscle in a bike race…Tore a muscle working out… Minor collisions… I could easily get one of them to follow me home…"

"Keep talking, and you'll be staying at home for the rest of your life," he warned her, and began stacking the folders into a single pile.

"Right. Because I'm going to let you do that."

He folded the map. "If I tell you to quit your job, you will."

"Oh, I will, will I?"

"Keh! Of course you will," he teased, and readied himself to push one of his favorite buttons when annoying her. "I'm a _man_, Kagome. And you're just a silly wo—_erk_!"

Her arms were around his neck again, surprising him, and possibly cutting off his air supply, but she wasn't too concerned with that. "Don't you say it, Dog-Boy," she warned, and he chuckled, throat vibrating against her bare arms.

He carefully pried them away from him, and shook his head. "All right, all right. Let me pick this mess up, _Dr_. Takenawa."

"No more work?" she asked hopefully.

"Nah. No more work."

She seemed pleased by that, and sat back content to watch him pack away such an unpleasant job. She'd heard rumors, after all, of what they were working with—things he thought she couldn't hear. And then there were the string of murders that the news talked about every single night. She sighed, but smiled when he looked over his shoulder again to quirk an eyebrow. "Good. Because it's Friday night and the kids are gone…"

His face melted into a mask of arrogance when he caught her drift. "Hell, Kagome—I don't care if the pups are gone or not. You want me, all you gotta do is ask."

Rolling her eyes, she groaned in disgust. "I still remember the days you used to blush every time I kissed you. What _happened_?"

"You know better than anyone," he reminded her, flashing a toothy grin and setting the stack of files in the armchair. "Now what did you have in mind?"

Lifting herself to her feet, she grinned brazenly and walked up to him to wrap her arms around his waist. Laughing when he jerked her more firmly against him, she found his pulse with her lips, felt it spike against her, and he was still just as alive as he ever was. "Well…I've already drawn a bath…"

"You've thought of everything, haven't you?"

"I usually do—_oooh_…"

"Right, wench."

"Inuyasha, what—_stop that_—what about the bath?"

"We'll get there eventually," he assured her, helping her step out of her discarded skirt. "It's half the fun."

"No, what if—"

"Kagome…?"

"…Hm?"

"Shut up."

* * *

It was Friday night, and so began the age-old tradition of staying home with take-out and a few beers before trying—and failing—to kick Miroku's ass in Halo. 

"So…" Miroku began nonchalantly over his take-out noodles, a barely noticeable smile lighting thin lips, "I heard you have a girlfriend now."

Rei took a swig from his bottle before he shook his head in faux-disgust, long black hair sliding over his shoulder. "Come to think of it, I believe Eri mentioned something about my baby cousin finding himself a woman." He stared at one of his rolled up sleeves that was threatening to creep back down his arm, his glare conveying his wish for it to stay put. It did.

Hiroshi pulled away from his food, sitting back on the metal barstool to pin his cousin with a look that was not unlike an irritated glare. "Did she now? I believe she must have misunderstood."

One arm propped on the sterile, metal island, the other maneuvering his chopsticks, Miroku shrugged. "I don't know... I heard it from a pretty reliable source."

"_Mimi_ does not count as a _reliable source_."

"I heard it from Kan, too."

"_That_ makes it less ridiculous..."

"And Aunt Kagome." Miroku met his best friend's eyes and broke out into a wide grin—Hiroshi expelled a lot of hot air. Sighing, he found, was very therapeutic.

"She's not my girlfriend," he announced for what may have been the thirty-seventh time this week—but who's counting? "I don't _have_ a girlfriend—I don't even have time for one."

"You're going to miss your mate one day," Rei told him lightly, pointing his chopsticks at him, "because you 'don't have time for one'. But you'll still have your cases, so I suppose you'll be fine, huh?"

"So you're saying she's my mate, then?" Hiroshi asked, the corner of his mouth quirking involuntarily. "I'd better go find her, hm? You want me to take her now, in front of all of you?"

Miroku grimaced at the off-color joke. "That's horrible, Hiro."

"That was, wasn't it?" he sighed, frowning. "Sorry."

"I'm not saying she was your mate, but what about the other girls that you never give a chance. Father's secretary, for example. She fancies you…"

'_I'd rather shove a porcupine up my ass._'

'_Yes,_' he thought. '_I know. You've made that quite clear. Every time we see her, actually._' Now…to put this politely. "She seems like a nice girl, but I'm afraid the feelings aren't mutual."

'_**Porcupine**__. Up the __**ass**_' the voice reiterated.

"And this girl?"

Miroku shot a knowing glance at his cousin out of the corner of his eye. "I think he means for you to mate with the first girl that comes along, Hiro."

"'This girl'," he repeated dryly, "is merely an _acquaintance_."

Sliding off his stool, Rei made his way around the island to grab three more beers from Hiroshi's fridge. "Like that means anything. Mother and Father were never more than acquaintances before they became mates."

The kitsune pushed and held his bangs out of his eye to smirk at his oldest cousin. "You know…I wouldn't go around telling that little bit of information to everyone if I were you."

Hiroshi grinned, tipping his bottle against Miroku's. "Here's to never discussing how Uncle Sesshoumaru and Aunt Kagura mated. …And to locked doors," he added after they'd already began drinking.

Miroku started choking on his beer, hiding a grin and blush with both hands. Rei, on the other hand, looked much less amused. He set the bottles down in front of them with a pointed glare before he sat back in his seat.

"Oh," Hiroshi sighed contently, turning back to his noodles, "will that joke ever get old? I really am beginning to doubt it."

"So am I," Rei muttered dourly, loosening his tie and releasing the top button of his dress shirt. "For nearly twenty-five years I've heard that joke at least once a month. _Thank_ you for making that two this time."

"We hear your sarcasm," Miroku drawled, "but we are strangely unmoved by it."

"A valiant effort, though," Hiroshi added.

"Whatever." Rei paused for a moment, sending them a strange look. "How did we even get on the ragging of _me--again_? I thought it was Hiro's turn. For once."

The silver hanyou shrugged over his noodles. "You're just too easy. And _you __really_ don't want to tease me about women, Rei; I can give twice as good as I get. Remember that."

Miroku clasped Rei's shoulder, the unbuttoned sleeve of his over-sized flannel shirt nearly swallowing his entire hand. "You're lucky that Kannon isn't here," he agreed quietly.

Rei was—to put it bluntly—whipped. Eri owned him. Shamelessly.

The oldest sighed in resignation. "I suppose you're right…_Sailor_."

A noodle might have found its way up Hiro's nose when he snorted in surprised amusement. And it might have stung like hell. But he was far too smooth to have allowed this to happen…

He tried in vain to hide his amusement when Miroku slowly turned enough to pin him with a scowl, face flaming at the forced memory of the Tube Top Twins. "Traitor," was all he said.

"Hey—don't look at _me_," his cousin defended, waving his hands in denial. "_You_ were the one stupid enough to tell Kannon about those girls—I haven't said _anything_ to _anybody_. I'd almost forgotten about that…" He chuckled, and Rei smiled smugly.

Miroku pointedly ignored them, and Hiro sighed, grin fading into a smirk. Miroku rarely actually joined in on the harmless teasing. A loose disciple of Bob Marley, he most often just didn't have it in him to be deliberately malicious and preferred to keep the peace when words that flew turned into fists.

So Hiroshi—a bit less adverse to insults than Miroku—always took it upon himself to make his best friend's comebacks for him.

"Rei, it's nearly nine o'clock. Don't you have a curfew tonight? Shouldn't you be running along now?"

All arrogance vanished immediately, and Miroku shook his head with a sigh when he distinctly heard a long whistle, and Hiro patted his thigh as though calling a dog.

"I don't need to go get the leash, do I? You've already got one, right?"

"You're an asshole. And you may think it's funny now, but wait until you get your own mate." Rei took a swig of his beer with as much of his tender pride as he could gather. "You'll see."

"Maybe." As they fell into a lapse of silence broken only by the slurping of noodles and the clink of glass bottles on metal counters, Hiro let his mind wander. It hadn't gotten much exercise this past week that he'd been stuck at home, and he was itching to get back in his office, to be in the middle of things once again.

'_Two more days. Two more days, and then I can continue the investigation…_'

'_You also have final exams coming up._'

'…_That, too,_' he admitted, absently twisting the bottle in his hands. And winter break was fast approaching. That'd be a welcome reprieve. He enjoyed school, yes, but the last few months, his life had begun to tilt drastically, until the new string of murders practically consumed him.

And god dammit if Inuyasha would give him any updates on the case. '_Wait 'till Monday_,' his father would say over and over without tearing his eyes away from his own work.

"So what are Eri and Hana up to tonight?" Miroku asked, staring thoughtfully at his now-empty noodle carton. "It feels like I haven't seen them in forever."

Rei sighed as he drew away from his bottle. "Hm? Oh—they're having a girl's night out tonight," he muttered with a smile. "I'm not allowed to interrupt them. She thinks Hana's too much of a daddy's girl."

"She is," Hiro added with a grin. The little girl, only four, was something else… Just as pompous as her father, she was still a spit-fire, proudly and stubbornly claiming that she could best every boy in her pre-school class.

And she probably could.

"She gets that from Eri," Rei'd always sigh.

And she probably did.

He'd never forget the day—she was not quite four yet—she proudly told him, "my daddy can kick your daddy's ass." She'd stuck up her nose and walked away after that, leaving the hanyou shaking his head as he watched her stomp away.

"Maybe just a bit," Rei admitted with a smirk. "Sometimes I think Eri gets jealous, but that's ridiculous, really. She gets to spend more time with her than I do." His smirk faded and he drained the last of his beer. "Especially lately."

"That bad, huh?" Miroku sighed under the weight of two sets of incredulous eyes.

"It's worse than bad," he admitted grudgingly. "These guys are damn near untraceable."

"What do you mean 'near'?" Hiroshi muttered. "We have nearly a fifty noses on guard for nearly thirty scents, but still no leads." His gaze shifted to Rei, now the very personification of somber. "Have there been any more attacks since Tuesday?"

And though the tightening of Rei's eyes told him 'yes', the youkai said, "I'm afraid I can't divulge that information. Sorry, pup—boss's orders."

"Of course."

"The way I see it," Rei began, watching him from the corner of his eye, "is that you've got two days left to remove yourself from all of this. Clear your mind, spend time with your family without wondering how many pieces the next kid's going to end up in. And if you can't bring yourself to take advantage of that, if you see that as _punishment_… then there's something wrong with you, Hiroshi. Maybe you really should consider permanently removing yourself from this case."

He met Rei's stubborn, determined eyes, carefully detached at the moment, and he wondered how long the youkai had felt that way. How long had he been chasing these youkai with Hana clouding his mind? And did he think of Eri as he fought to hold the slowly ripping threads of their existence together, to keep the name of the Inu no Taisho untarnished? How long had he been pulling away from this case?

'_Tell him you're different from him. Tell him _you're_ not a little bitch._'

"I think we both know that's not going to happen, Rei."

The smile was resigned, and he shrugged, running a hand through sleek, black hair. "I didn't really think you'd consider it, but… It was worth a shot," he exhaled slowly, standing up to stretch before staring at the watch on his wrist. "Anyway, Eri should be home by now, so I think I'm going to head on out. Later, Miroku. See you on Monday, Hiroshi."

He grabbed his jacket, and was gone in a matter of seconds.

Hiroshi was still staring at the empty doorway when he felt Miroku's eyes on him, and turned to meet that one visible emerald.

"Halo?"

He grinned.

And as he listened with a carefully un-amused expression to his best friend calling him 'ass-face' and other various phrases—most of which he'd never heard—he couldn't help but be grateful that even in the midst of the chaos that was becoming his work life, there was something as steady and constant as Fridays and Sundays to make up for it.

But that was Friday.

Sunday brought with it something entirely different.

He had decided early on in life that he didn't much like surprises. He liked to be completely in sync with his surroundings, so he made sure he was always prepared for anything. That alone was a useful skill. It allowed him to keep his cool at the face of anything—from flooded kitchens to overdoses within the family.

Funny how that was all shot to hell the day Julia tripped into his life.

Not only was his safe monotony of vigilance shot instantly to hell by this slip of a woman, but she'd also felt the need to shove it through a dirty meat grinder, stamp on it incessantly, and feed it to geese for them to then shit out and eat again.

'…_I loathe geese,_' was the only reply the voice could think of as Hiroshi's eyes settled on the woman, who appeared to be buried deep in thought, sitting at his feet on the edge of his bed.

'_This…is _my_ bed, right? _My_ house?_' His thoughts were muddled because, as far as he could remember, this had never happened to him before. He warily let his eyes fall from the girl to the dark blue comforter that covered him. That was definitely his comforter. And this was definitely his room. '_Right?_'

'…_Right._'

Oh. _'…I…can honestly say I do not remember letting her in._'

'_That's because you didn't. …Ho-o-o-oly __**shit**__, Hiro! This bitch just broke into our _house'

"Er…Hello." He watched with furrowed brows as she jumped at the sound of his amazingly calm voice. Her blue eyes snapped up to his almost guiltily, he noted, and then she grinned.

"Oh… Good morning!"

Hiroshi blinked. "…Good morning?"

She fought to keep a straight face when he sounded strangely confused. "It's pretty cold outside, but other than that…yes, it's a beautiful morning."

Propping himself up on his elbows, he studied her uneasily, unsure of what to say next. He'd never been thrust into this sort of situation before. "Er…Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh, no. I'm good."

His shock was beginning to morph into acute irritation at an alarming pace. It was almost as though she was being distinctly unhelpful. "Are you _lost_, then?"

"Lost?" she began, head cocked to the side before her eyes widened in sudden realization. "Oh! No, I went to give Mimi's clothes back," she explained matter-of-factly.

"Ah," he said. "…Did you?"

"Oh yes."

"…Here?"

"No. At your parents' house."

"Ah," he repeated.

"You say that a lot." He looked perplexed, considering his next words very carefully, and she had to grin at the look of utter mystification that drew his brows together in thought.

"I'm just…trying to figure out how you got into my house," he admitted honestly.

Well, that was easy enough. "Your mother gave me directions."

"So you walked here—?"

"Your brother gave me a ride."

"Broke into my house—"

"Your sister gave me a key."

She said that with remarkable nonchalance, he noticed. "And found my bedroom," he muttered to himself.

If there was ever a time in her life that Julia experienced an epiphany on how foolish she could possibly be, this was it. The sudden realization of what she'd done hit her hard enough to leave a bruise. But hell, she'd come this far—might as well put her pride aside and see exactly how far this careening car would take her.

The problem was, though, that Julia was naturally a very clumsy girl. She attracted accidents, so there was a good chance that this careening car would smash into something very hard, leaving her fragile ego shattered beyond repair.

She'd be crippled! "Er…yes."

He stared at her as though she was the most foreign thing he'd ever seen. She felt like a freak.

_Knock, knock! Remember me? Uncomfortable Situation? How are you doing? …May I please borrow a cup of sugar?_

"…And why are you on my bed?" He sounded like he genuinely wanted to know.

_D'oh! Looks like Awkward Question's finally here! You decided to come after all!_

She tried to make light of it. "Because there weren't any chairs?" she joked weakly, a blush staining her face. When he failed to laugh, or change expressions at all, she said, "No? All right then… What's the opposite of Christopher Reeve?"

'_This girl…makes less and less sense with every word that spews from her mouth…_' He didn't think it was possible to be more confused than he was the moment he woke up.

He was wrong.

Finally, he opened his mouth. "Who's Christopher Reeve?" he asked.

She frowned. He wasn't exactly making this any easier on her, was he? "You just killed my joke," she complained, suddenly irritated beyond reason, and his eyebrows shot up.

"I'm…sorry?"

He looked so completely unsettled (a look that she had never been able to associate with him…except that one time with the 'gay' question), that, had she not been mortified and annoyed, she would have found this hysterically adorable. With an aggravated sigh, she began popping her knuckles as turned straightforward again and stared at the wall before her. "Christopher Reeve is an actor—the guy that played Superman, right? Well…I'm supposed to ask 'What's the opposite of Christopher Reeve?' and you're supposed to say, 'What?'"

"…What?" he asked unsurely, and she wasn't sure if he was asking out of duty of the joke or if he needed her to repeat her previous instructions. '_He can't be that slow,_' she told herself, and just went with the former.

"Christopher _Walken_!" Her grin faded when his eyes told her that he feared for her sanity. "You know…because Christopher Reeve is a paraplegic…"

A haughty, humorous understand slowly lighted his eyes, and though he raised an elegant eyebrow, he didn't smile. "So you broke into my house to make fun of handicapped people."

"What? _No_!"

"Oh _really_?" He had to admit—although he was one to avoid fights, he received immeasurable amusement at her discomfort and blossoming anger. It made him feel a little less disoriented and disadvantaged. Pale blue, clear and fierce, brightened with fury, and she seemed to be literally gathering herself up to seem more intimidating that she actually was.

"…You're a _jerk_!"

"I'm not the one breaking into houses and throwing around jokes about cripples."

Her glare faded, cheeks pinking once again. "…This was a mistake," she muttered, and started to lift herself up when his 'Wait' caught her ears and stayed her, though she still looked hesitant and cautiously haughty.

He sighed and moved to sit completely upright, his bare back against the cool wall behind him. "I am not used to…" he paused and stared at her strangely, "this." Whatever _this_ was. "Please, continue."

"I'm trying," she whined, flinging her hands petulantly in a downward motion. "But this is _really_ awkward—I really didn't think it'd be like this," she admitted with the same resigned disapproval of a mother saying 'boys will be boys'. "I mean, I go through _all_ this trouble to talk to you—Mimi wanted to fix my hair, and I told her 'no, it's just too early for that'—because it really is,_you know_?"

Startled by her babbling, he nodded wisely.

"And Kagome said something about breakfast, but I'd already worked my nerves up, and I really don't want to throw up in front of her, or _on_ you," she continued without meeting his eye, and instead staring at the hands she was fidgeting with in her lap. "Because that's just_ gross_. And I didn't bring my toothbrush. And then I get here, and you accuse me of breaking into your house like I might take advantage of you while you're sleeping"—he barked out a laugh at this point—"And then you were mean and destroyed all the confidence I had. Things got really awkward, and I _tried_ to make a joke, but you _killed it_," she finished with a grimace before risking a peek at him.

He was staring at her with wide eyes. "I'm …sorry about your joke?"

"_See_?" she asked, shooting to her feet to point at him. "_That's_ what I'm talking about. Why did you have to make that a question?! It makes things really, _really_ uncomfortable!"

'_...You're unusually quiet,_' he thought as he stared at the glaring woman, almost wishing the voice would offer him some farce of advice that he could ignore.

'_I…I _really_ don't know what to say right now,_' it admitted, stunned.

Julia's glare had already softened into a fretful sort of hesitance, and he wondered if she was bi-polar. That _would_ explain some things. "All right. I apologize for both your joke and for making you uncomfortable—though I feel that my hesitance is completely justified at the moment," he added under his breath. "Now, what can I do for you?"

"Well," she began, settling back at the foot of his bed, but stopped, eyeing him warily, as though _he'd_ just broken into _her_ house at some ungodly hour on a Sunday morning—'_It's nearly nine,_' he reminded himself. "…You're not naked under there are you? …Because that would be _really_ awkward…"

Looking down at his bare chest, he sighed. "I…fail to see how this situation could possibly become any more awkward than it already is."

Her eyebrows rose in careful amusement. "_Someone_ woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

"That's because_ someone_ was sitting on the side I normally wake up on."

"Oh."

"Yes."

"Hold on a minute. I'll move." He watched her stand and walk to the other side of the bed and plop down on the corner. She twisted around to face him. "Better?"

He rolled his eyes when she flashed him a grin, but smiled, nonetheless. "Immensely."

"I've come to the conclusion that we are friends."

That was as blunt as a rubber-coated baby spoon. But at least they were getting somewhere. Finally.

He nodded thoughtfully, folding his arms across his chest as he seemed to consider her. "Have you now?"

"Yes."

He hid his smile when she folded her hands in her lap and stared at him with a somehow complete solemnity about her. "And how did you come to reach this conclusion, might I ask?"

"Well…a number of reasons, really." She pried her index finger from a balled fist and showed it to him. "We joke a lot," she named the finger and held up another one. "Two—I've already met your family. …_All_…of your family."

"All of my _immediate_ family," he corrected, but nodded shrewdly. "All right. I'll accept those two points. Any further proof?"

"I helped you cook oden," she reminded him, holding up a third finger.

"So you did," he admitted slowly. "That's three points. I need ten if you're going to be my friend."

She glared at him. "Keep this up, and I might not want to be your friend at all," she told him haughtily, jabbing a finger into his bare chest. He stared at it in calm surprise. "So you better watch it, buddy, because _then_ you'll be missing out." She frowned when she saw the patronizing amusement in his topaz eyes.

"I apologize," he told her for the second time. "Please. Continue."

She removed her hand, and sniffed dismissively. "I had your brother's babies, too. And that alone is worth _at least_ ten points. So I'm like…a_ super_-friend…"

His eyes tightened as he made a show of considering it. "Although I do agree that having Kannon's spawn would warrant recompense, they were fortunately fake 'babies'. Pegs, actually. Remember? 'Shapeless, colored pegs'?" he repeated her words from earlier that week.

"You have the most freak memory I think I've ever seen," she told him as though commenting on the weather.

He ignored her. "They're worth one."

She immediately sprang to action, and in her excitement found herself on completely on the bed, sitting on her calves. "They were _babies_!" she used her hands to express her urgency, which he found massively entertaining. "How can they be worth only '_one'_? I'm practically _family_!"

"They were _pegs_—and we're still negotiating friendship. Don't jump the boat."

"Fine," she huffed, and shoved her arms across her chest. "Pegs. But I still had them with your brother. Eight."

"One."

"Seven."

"One."

"You're being entirely unreasonable."

"One."

"Jerk!"

His eyebrows shot up, and he cast her a knowing grin. "That's an insult—zero."

"_No_! Four!"

"Zero."

"_Hiro_!" she whined, and he rolled his eyes.

'_Well…_' the voice began carelessly, yet somehow cautiously—hopefully, maybe. '_She _did_ call you 'Hiro'. Only your friends call you that, after all…_'

'_Yes. She did, didn't she?'_

'_Yeah._'

'_But what really amazes me is that _you_ seem to be in favor of her._'

'_She's a hell of a lot more interesting than _you,' it snapped_. 'It'll be like watching a really funny sitcom right after reading anything by Hemingway. And you're Hemingway, by the way.'_

'_So I gathered.'_

'_The old man that lived with his cats, wrote the most simple, boring sentences, and had mental problems._'

'_Yes. I got that. Thank you._'

'_You know what happened to Hemingway, right?_'

'_Yes, I do. You really don't have to continue._'

'_He killed himself with a double-barrel shotgun._'

'_Thank you,_' he thought shortly.

'_Now, do you think he would have done that if only he'd watched more funny sitcoms? I mean, come on—it's impossible to kill yourself while watching The Three Stooges. Now that's some funny shit right there._'

"_Fine_," he sighed, dipping his head in exasperation and biting back a smile when her black scowl melted away. "One."

The scowl returned. "Three," she demanded immediately.

"Beggars can't be choosers. One," he repeated flippantly.

"Three, and I'm not a beggar."

"One, and that appears to be what you're doing."

Her eyes narrowed further. He was baiting her—she just knew it! She could see it in his smug, serene—'_pretty,' _she added spitefully—face. "Two. Kannon _also_ stared at my breasts. Which I found very demeaning. Possibly scarring. And offensive, of course. I demand reparation." She was already gloating internally when his smug, small smile faded into an annoyed frown.

"…Fine. You can get two points."

She grinned at her victory, and cheered a quiet 'yay'.

"That's still only five though," he reminded her. "At the moment, you're only half a friend. Maybe a bit more than an acquaintance."

She thought for a minute. "You know my true hair color," she finally blurted with a grin. "_Very_ few people in this country know my true hair color. That should count as two points, too. But I know you already—you're stingy. That should be another point I've just earned for being able to map your character," she demanded airly.

"Maybe that should, but I'm stingy. I'm keeping the point. You can, however, have one for the hair color bit—that's six."

"I can count," she shot back testily. "Thanks. Anyway," she sighed and frowned, "I don't really have many friends here."

His dry incredulity made her blink. "I find that difficult to believe."

"No," she began in earnest, "it's true!"

He pinned her with a wry stare. "Did you break into their houses, too?"

"Would you stop saying that I broke into your house? I have special rights because I'm a friend! And Mimi gave me a key!"

"You're not a friend yet," he reminded her with a smirk. "I still need four more points. And you entered my house without my permission. Whether you have a key or not, it's still breaking and entering." He chuckled when she shot him a withering glare.

"I didn't _break_ anything," she muttered under her breath. "_Anyway_," she stressed impatiently, "I didn't know a word of Japanese when I first moved out here, and by the time I learned enough to have friends, they were all in their little clicks." He frowned, and she looked up at him through her lashes. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad, or anything," she hurried to say. "…But is it working?"

Rolling his eyes, he sighed. "Hell, go ahead and take another point."

"Yay! You know…I've never actually felt the need to try so hard to make a friend. Normally I would have given up by now, but…I don't know. You're different—interesting. So is your family." She shrugged, and he sighed again.

"Fine. Another point."

"Yes! You know," she began with a catty smirk, "you are _far_ too easy to manipulate."

"…Should you really be telling me this? It might not work next time."

"I really only ever hang out with my brother," she admitted, slowly, sadly, and he knew_ damn_ well she was playing him. "He's a lot like Kannon, but he's the only person around I can talk to…" Yeah, he knew, but in the end, it didn't really matter.

'…_Well, shit, Hiro… She knows you like the back of her hand now…_'

"That's nine," he bit out, eyes narrowing to show how very much he really disliked being manipulated.

"All right, all right," she relented with a grin, re-situating herself so that she was sitting Indian-style, with her chin cupped in both palms. "I'm through with that routine. But just so you know, everything I've said has been true, so really, you're only getting to know me better."

Was that supposed to make him feel better? If anything, she'd just earned herself another friend point—but he kept that to himself for the moment.

"But I suppose the real reason I want to get to know you is that…well…I've never met anyone like you—God, that sounds like I'm coming onto you," she realized with a frown before her eyes met his smirk, and her face flushed. "And I'm _not_," she snapped testily. "You know, you're not making the next part any easier, Hiro, because I'm about to tell you how nice you are. Now be nice so I'm not lying."

He held up his hands in surrender. "I will try to be nice," he promised.

She released a deep breath and her scowl melted into a mask of concentration. "Sure, I've met some nice people," she continued, "but you're the only one that's ever stopped traffic to help me. You're the only one that's ever gone out of his way to be nice, Jackson excluded," she added, waving a dismissive hand as she stared across the room at a random wall. She blinked, and then blue eyes searched for gold, and she her smile faded. She was nothing if not pitifully serious, and when she spoke, her voice was soft, nearly sad. "You made the call, didn't you? It was you."

His small smile made her nerves bunch together. "I'm not sure I know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you _do_ know."

He chuckled, and when he threw the covers aside to push himself out of bed, she squeaked, her hands darting out as though her splayed fingers meant to grab or block something—namely him—from where she was curled onto the foot of his bed a good seven feet away. He froze, half standing, half sitting on the side of the bed as she babbled incoherently, her eyes shielded from him.

And when he saw her red face, he lifted himself fully off the bed, grinning down at her, waiting for her to catch up with him.

It took her a moment, but she finally lifted her eyes—and he laughed outright when they first settled on his sweatpants.

"Oh."

"You didn't_ honestly_ think I was completely without any form of clothing throughout our conversation. …Right?"

"Of course not!" she snapped, her blush refusing to fade, and he laughed again.

"Pervert."

Her mouth fell open angrily, but no sound escaped. She watched him walk to his dresser, frown becoming thoughtful as she watched the muscles dance across his back. She was still staring when he turned back around, fully dressed in a faded blue shirt.

"You _did_ call, didn't you?" she asked quietly. "I have another audition Tuesday… They called _me_ this time. That _never_ happens—and it's for an actual _movie_…"

He leaned back against his dresser, crossing his arms over his chest. "Well, that's great, isn't it?"

She gave him a strange look. "It's…better than 'great'," she corrected quietly. "It's _amazing_. And I know…that there aren't any guarantees I'll get the part, but still…"

He offered her a soft smile. "I'm sure you'll do fine. What movie is it?"

"They're making a live action version of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves…"

He unfolded himself, and turned to swipe his watch off the dresser, slipping it over his wrist. "Let me guess… You're Dopey," he teased over his shoulder, fastening the band, and she shot him a look that told her she was distinctly unamused. So his smile became more genuine, and he took in her lithe frame, black curls, and fair skin. She looked sweet, innocent—though he was beginning to think twice about that. "Yeah… You could pull her off. You sort of look like her, huh?"

Small hands smoothed out her white-washed jeans for something to do. "Was that a compliment, Hiroshi?"

"Take it as you will. But I am nice, occasionally, you know."

"Yeah…I know."

Padding across the wooden floor, he headed for his closet, and stared at the small wall of colors that was his clothes—most of it Mimi's doing, as years ago, his sister seemed to have decided on her own what his style should be, and even went so far as to steal his credit card one time last year. He'd had clothes ever since.

"Hey—" He turned when her soft voice broke the elongated silence that had fallen between them. She smile and offered him a helpless shrug. "Thank you for this."

It really hadn't been that big of a deal to him. He'd made her miss her audition, so he made a call and got her another one—ease his conscience. He did, after all, know all the right people, and it hadn't taken thirty seconds on his part. Not to mention he was full of free-time this week, and his mind, restless from lack of work, kept wandering back to that moment he'd found her crying in the rain. She thought she'd be a waitress forever, and she'd been tired of waiting for a break.

And now, she was giving him the most grateful smile he'd ever received from anyone—sure people thanked him, but he doubted that anything he ever did _truly_ touched them. And that call hadn't even been a big deal.

He somehow managed a grin, his face heating as he began losing touch with familiarity again. "Don't mention it. After all, that's what friends are for, right?"

She blinked for a moment, her surprise slowing her smile, and when she'd gathered herself, she ducked her head and laughed. "Tell me," she prodded with a grin, "that you didn't steal that from a Stevie Wonder song."

'_Hah! I like her!_'

'_Of course you do,_' he mentally sighed, brow furrowing in mild irritation. "I didn't," he defended crossly. "It's a fairly common saying."

She laughed again, eyes shining happily as her curls shook. "Yeah. You stole it from Stevie. I'm more of a Prince fan, myself, but he's not so bad."

"…I'm getting chain locks," he began sharply, and her laughter only escalated. "And guard dogs."

"Oh, come on. Tell me you didn't enjoy waking up in bed with a pretty girl," she teased.

"…_Vicious_ guard dogs," he corrected, swiping a pair of jeans from his closet and heading to his bathroom.

"Well, I happen to _love_ dogs," she sniffed at the closed door. "And they love me. I'm positive your '_vicious_ guard dogs' wouldn't eat me—so hah!"

"You strike me as more of a cat person," he began just as petulantly as she had been earlier, his voice carrying through the wood barrier. "Maybe you have a few—or seven…_teen_."

"You're funny." She laughed before leveling the door a deadpan look.

"It's not often I hear that," he admitted, and she thought dryly, '_Really?_' but didn't say it aloud.

"In good times and bad times—" she began to tell the door, before he opened it to glare at her.

"I didn't steal it from Stevie Wonder," he repeated.

She ignored him. "—I'll be on your side forever more. That's what friends are for."

He threw a damp towel at her without even wondering when the last time he'd done something so deliberately childish was. "I think I liked it better when we weren't friends. You weren't as cocky then."

"I'm not cocky. I'm _comfortable_," she corrected, pinching the hand-towel between her fingers and letting it fall to the dark blue comforter. "There's a big difference."

"You're Mimi," he told her, as though he were 'bursting her bubble'. And then he paused. "_And_ Kan. _God_, you're _both_ of them," he realized in horror, staring at her with wide eyes.

"I'm _Julia_. I do not stare at my own boobs, nor do I have a morbid fascination with humiliating my older brother."

'…Boobs'

'_Pay attention._'

"That doesn't matter…" He shook his head in disbelief as he stared at her. "You _are_ both of them. When did _that_ happen?" But it was really there all along, wasn't it? Her reservation was normal considering that she was in a strange house surrounded by strangers, but even then her true character had been switching off and on, sometimes rising to the surface—like when she became impatient with that first potato.

She stared at him again.

"Never mind," he sighed.

"So…" she began, breaking this new, weird silence. "We're friends now, huh?"

"I suppose. That's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yeah. And don't act like it's one-sided," she sniffed, crossing her arms as she settled more firmly into his bed, legs uncrossing to hang off the side as she sat on the edge. "You're not indulging me by being my friend," she told him, and he stared at her in mock surprise.

"I'm not?"

"No, you jerk! …By the way, I'm going shopping with Mimi next Saturday. That should be fun."

He was still a bit wary when it came to her mood swings, but told himself that she wasn't nearly as bad as Mimi was. That information gave him a bit of comfort. "So you two are friends now, huh?"

Julia shrugged. "Well…I haven't broken into her house yet, or anything, but yeah, I guess."

"Well, watch out for Kannon if you decide to try it," he warned with a quiet chuckle. "I think he's got a crush on you."

"Somehow," she muttered, "—and don't take offense—but I seriously doubt he has a crush on me, so much as _anything_ distinctly female."

He picked up the discarded hand towel that rested on his bedspread. "That's a nice way of putting it. Now, I've got to be at my parents' house for breakfast in…five minutes ago. Brave enough to face them all again?"

She was suddenly shy and nervous again, hesitant as she worried her lip in though. "Well…I wouldn't want to impose…"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "So you can barge into _my_ house _uninvited_, but you feel your 'imposing' when I actually _invite_ you to my parents' house?"

"…You're a jerk!"

He hid his amused smile by leaving the bedroom, confident that she'd follow. "So you've said."

"And you still are," she shot back, padding behind him. "And I _am_ going to breakfast. And you'd _better_ put chains on your doors after all, you jerk. On weekends, I'm your new alarm clock."

"Then I'll have my locks changed immediately," he agreed pleasantly enough, throwing the hand towel in his hamper without breaking his stride until he reached his front door. "Now…breakfast?"

With a smile, she ducked under his arm, and was already half way to his jeep when he closed the door.

* * *

When a knock sounded on his door, he twirled his chair around slowly, staring with dispassionate eyes. "Enter." 

The youkai emerged at the command, the door shutting softly behind him. "Sir?" And in the soft light of the desk lamps, he saw a notebook splayed open in the center, and his gaze hardened.

"Sit."

He sat. The rest of the office faded away as he stared at the book with all its notes and names. "So it's my turn then?"

"Yes."

"Who am I taking?"

"...It would seem the Inu no Taisho has managed to sneak a spy into our midst. I don't suppose you have any idea how this could have happened?"

Red eyes widened in surprise. "No. This is the first I'm hearing of it."

"I did not ask if you knew about it, Junreii. I should hope you are not idiotic enough to withhold something like this from me. I asked _how _this could have happened."

The coyote balked, and was left speechless for a long moment. "I...I suppose we have been lax, sir. I apologize for the oversight, and will talk to the others."

"Yes. Do that. And Junreii? You will take our guest out tonight. And I suggest you take care of him. If you fail, don't bother coming back. Death will await you on both sides, ne?"

"Sir."

"You are excused."

* * *

_For the sake of humor, we will pretend that Hiroshi has no idea who Christopher Reeve is, even though he knows of Roman Polanski and The Three Stooges… Also…my story isn't very consistent with Japanese culture if you haven't realized it by now. I will pretty much never reference Japanese shows and artists for the sole reason that I don't know any. So nyah D:_

_Now...I'm going to return to my Ledger movie marathon. :(_

_Miroku's song is actually "Three Little Birds" by Bob Marley. _

_Trivia: Julia's favorite word is 'awkward'. She says it often, and thinks it even more so. _

_Next Chapter: Sesshoumaru gets a well-deserved earful. _

* * *

**_Quotes of Randomness:_**

_"No. No! NO! Stop it! Stop it, please! I beg you! This is sin! This is sin! This is sin! It's a sin, it's a sin, it's a sin!"  
"Sin? What's all this about sin?"  
"That! Using Ludwig van like that! He did no harm to anyone. Beethoven just wrote music!"  
"Are you referring to the background score?"  
"Yes."  
"You've heard Beethoven before?"  
"Yes!"  
"So you're keen on music?"  
"YES!"  
"Can't be helped. Here's the punishment element perhaps."_

_--Alex and Dr. Brodsky, "A Clockwork Orange" _


	6. Playing with Fire

_Chapter 6: Playing with Fire  
_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha._

* * *

_First off—Sorry about the wait. I've taken on a full load this semester, and it's been crunch time ever since midterms snuck up on me. Secondly, this chapter is not my best, by any means, but some of this is needed for later flashbacks. That's another reason I took so long to update. I just...couldn't make myself write this. Next chapter will be better, though, Promise. Thirdly, thank you so much for the reviews, which are love, by the way. Love you all!_

* * *

_This chapter is dedicated to Bowandarrow08, who was the 1000th reviewer for 'The Pain'—what a milestone! Again—I thank and love you **all **for getting me there!_

* * *

_On a champagne high,  
I'd toast to the future, but that'd be a lie._

_--"Champagne High" by Sister Hazel_

* * *

Inuyasha stared over the desk at his brother, ears twitching in disbelief. The silence stretched long and thin, until wide eyes narrowed. "You did _what_?" he hissed.

Sesshoumaru sighed, leaning back in his chair, his face carefully blank. "Do not make me repeat myself, Inuyasha. This is an unfortunate—"

There was a long moment in which the hanyou tried to fathom what the youkai was telling him, tried to wrap his mind around the idea that Sesshoumaru had to gall to deliberately sneak around him— The youkai's face hadn't changed at all when he'd told him… And then the dam broke.

"God _dammit_, Sesshoumaru, you bastard!" he shouted, springing to his feet and slamming his hands down on his brother's desk. The thin computer monitor wavered but did not fall. "I _told_ you! I _told_ you to _wait_—wait until I could talk to Hiro about it!"

His brother met his anger with his typical coolness. "I'm afraid my word is more powerful than yours. And they are my men—"

"He was _my_ man, you bastard. _I_ trained him. _I_ knew him—fifteen _fucking_ years! All _you_ did was sign his goddamn paycheck!"

"He knew the risks involved, Inuyasha. Once he heard it was your idea, he jumped at the chance—"

"It was _Hiro's_ idea, dammit! I told you that! I told you to wait for him—let him iron it out, let him form a plan! You have no idea what you threw Fujiwara into!"

"I have not yet confirmed his death. You are assuming the worst, Inuyasha."

Gold flashed, and the hanyou leaned forward over the desk. "And you should be, too," he seethed. "Fujiwara was a _good_ fighter, and you haven't heard from him in four fucking _days_? He's not on vacation, Sesshoumaru; you sent him on a fucking suicide mission. He's dead. And _you_ killed him."

There was a sudden spike of anger in the Taisho's youki, and he carefully unfolded himself to his full height, glaring down at the hanyou. "We are running out of options. I didn't have a choice."

"You had _plenty_ of choices—none of which should have resulted in the useless death of _my_ men! _What_…" He cut himself off when he discovered he was at a loss for words. He was literally speechless, as he stared at the inu youkai. The plan was so messy, so rash—not at all Sesshoumaru's usual style. It was so unlike him in all but the fact that it took a right bastard to pull it off.

"My hand was forced on the matter, Inuyasha. I had to do something. There have been too many deaths, and the right people are saying that the Inu no Taisho is refusing to take action."

"The _right people_, huh?"

"Yes, Inuyasha, the right people," he snapped impatiently, sinking back into his seat. "I'm afraid that even this Sesshoumaru answers to some when they are unified in their opinions. This is not a dictatorship, baka."

"_This Sesshoumaru_ can shove it, and use his _own_ goddamn men next time he goes looking to impress the fucking Council! Better yet, get _them_ to get off their _own_ sorry asses if they want results. Sitting around a fucking table, telling us all the mistakes we're making…" he sneered. "Yeah, that's _real_ fucking useful. Hypocritical jackasses—all of you."

"Men have died on your watch before, Inuyasha," he reminded coolly, ignoring the slight, and completely unfazed by a savage, low growl that worked its way out of the hanyou.

"And they knew the cost, didn't they? I didn't just send them in blind without any information or help or _plan_—_God_! You know what?" he muttered suddenly, pulling away from the desk, straightening up. "Fuck you. _Fuck_ you, and _fuck_ your council. I've had about enough of your shit."

That got to him. Inuyasha felt a strange sort of satisfaction when the youkai's eyes widened the smallest bit, barely noticeable at all, but at least it was a fucking change in his stone expression.

"…Am I to understand you are resigning, Inuyasha?"

He scoffed, fury and pride fighting for dominance as he began pacing before the desk, scowling at his brother the entire time. "Why? So you can throw away the _rest_ of the men I trained? No. But from now on, as far as they're concerned, we're doing things _my_ way. In other words, sacrifice another one of my men without even _telling_ me, and I'll kick your fucking ass."

And maybe if there hadn't been fresh blood on his claws, the taisho would have found that humorous. "Hm. Is that all?"

"And you get to tell Hiro," he snarled.

"Tell me what?" the hanyou asked stepping through the office doors. And when both of the brothers stared silently at him, he closed them firmly behind him, crossing his arms over his chest. "I'm interrupting, I know. But after that forced vacation, I find that I don't really care about interrupting you, Uncle."

Inuyasha finally tore his gaze away, sending one last glare to his boss. "_You_ tell him. And then, _you_ get to call Fujiwara's family and let them know why their son isn't coming home. This is on _your_ hands, Sesshoumaru."

Hiroshi watched his father stalk out, flinching visibly when the doors slammed shut behind him. An award that had been hanging on the wall fell to the floor, frame shattering upon impact.

'_Holy hell… Wonder what Sesshoumaru said to get _his_ panties in a bunch…_'

He turned his head, staring warily at his uncle, who was left frowning at the closed doors. "What happened to Katsu?"

Sesshoumaru closed his eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to disregard the stress headache that was beginning to form. "I think…" he began crossly, opening his eyes again, "I made a mistake."

Hiroshi raised an eyebrow, ignoring the nagging suspicion that gnawed on the edges of his mind as he sank into the seat his father had occupied minutes before. "The Great Sesshoumaru admits he made a mistake? Must be serious."

Sesshoumaru skipped the preamble, and gold met gold. "Fujiwara is dead."

Hiroshi paused, calm façade fading into a complete solemnity.

"You_ get to call Fujiwara's family and let them know why their son isn't coming home,_" Inuyasha had said.

"What happened to Katsu?" he repeated, brows furrowing, and to Sesshoumaru it sounded like an accusation.

"There have been two more deaths since you first took your leave; you know this."

And he did—it was his second day back, after all. "Yes."

"The Council held another meeting during your absence. …To say your presence would have been useful is putting it mildly," he added with a humorless smirk, and his nephew's eyes narrowed. "They fear that there will be challenges to my title now that more and more youkai are discovering that we are not impenetrable. The last thing they need at the moment is a new name and face governing them. We would lose all stability."

The nagging grew more persistent, but he waited patiently for answers. "What did you tell them?"

Sesshoumaru steepled his fingers on his desk, and refused to break eye contact. "I told them they were daft to think I couldn't hold my own in a challenge. We needed more time, that we had our best men on the job, and that we were forming a new strategy."

'_Hiro…_'

He repositioned himself onto the edge of his seat, hands grabbing the leather arms of the chair he was seated in. The voice's apprehension was unnerving to say the least. "What strategy?"

"…Your father informed me last week that you wished to try to infiltrate this new organization—if it is, in fact, an organization, which we now have cause to believe."

His breath left him in a sudden blow, and he stared at his uncle in blatant incredulity. "…Come again?"

Sesshoumaru sighed heavily, whether in annoyance or repentance, Hiroshi didn't know.

"_Please_ tell me that you didn't send _Katsu_. That you didn't send _anyone_. That you _wouldn't_ send anyone so recklessly."

The youkai picked up a yellow folder, and tossed it to him. Fujiwara, Katsu: lynx youkai. Age 33. No mate. "I'm afraid I was overruled on the matter. The council demanded action, and Fujiwara expressed interest. He left Friday afternoon. I have not heard from him since Friday night."

"So…he really is dead, then."

"Your father seems to think so, but the body has yet to be found."

'_He always was an over-eager fool._'

'_He's dead. Shut up._'

The hanyou forced his mouth shut and clenched his jaw, letting Beethoven run through his mind as he settled back into his chair. His eyes thinned almost imperceptibly. "I see."

"Yes."

He could feel his blood heating up, even as the music stubbornly grew louder. "So what, you just sent him into some random slum and had him bad-mouth the Tai Youkai to see if the right people would pick him up?"

Sesshoumaru had the good grace to look as abashed as a statue could look. "That was," he began after a moment, "the gist of it."

'_Holy fuck. Sesshoumaru as good as murdered him._'

"Is _that_ your idea of a _plan_, Uncle? You…he _died_."

"I am aware."

"Are you sure?" the hanyou snapped, feeling not so pleasant as he had earlier that morning. "You don't seem like you're aware of it at all, honestly. You sent a man into battle without any form of weapon or defense. You sent him to his _death_—you and your _council_… And for what?"

Thin lips twisted into a farce of a small, tired smirk, and he reached for his coffee, though he never picked it up. "That's the polite way of saying it. Your father chose the less conventional way of pointing that out."

"It's true. You used _my_ strategy without discussing it with me. If you would have _waited_, I might have saved him. I could have given him _rules_, _signs. _I could have given him an actual _tactic_; prepared him—it's _my job_. It's my job to get your answers—and you interfered."

"Inuyasha pointed that out, as well."

"Yeah? Well, he's right about that, too. I don't go around issuing edicts and such. I don't pretend I'm the Inu no Taisho. Do your job, and let me do mine. Please stop interfering."

The youkai raised an eyebrow at the demand. Since when did he allow his employees to back talk them? Family or no. "I make no promises. Now, enough arguing. It seems Fujiwara was able to make contact—obviously. Friday night, he managed to make the acquaintance of two youkai—both some type of weasel, apparently. Ermine and possibly a ferret. His hesitance in the identification is vexing, to be sure, but it is a start at least. He called from a payphone in the bar, as they had confiscated his cell when he agreed to 'help make a difference'. I have not spoken to him since."

"And that was Friday, huh?" he asked quietly. His eyes snapped back up to meet the youkai's. "Did he give any names?"

"Yes. A name for both youkai."

"Fakes."

Sesshoumaru's eyes narrowed over the rim of his mug, and with another sigh, he set it back on his desk. "So it would seem. We ran both names through our computer, but there is no Jin Toshiriku or Shigeru Noda in our system."

"Fuck."

"Indeed."

"So we're back at square one," he sighed, and pushed himself to his feet. "_And_ we've lost one of our men… Very well. Give me the name of the bar, and I'll go check it out. …I believe _you_ have a phone call to make," he reminded his uncle grimly before he turned slowly on his heel and headed for the door. "Try not to be completely heartless when you break the news?"

Sesshoumaru glared at his back. "Leave."

"Already gone," he agreed.

* * *

How had this happened? How had she ended up here? Three hours later, and she was still trying to figure out what had just happened…

_She'd been waving goodbye to Anne, and had just managed to open the door, when a hand seized her wrist and tugged her forward._

_She nearly screamed, but then her eyes met gold. "We're going shopping!"_

_And she caught her breath, a hand resting over her pounding heart. "Um—hello…?"_

"_Hi," Kimiko blurted, waving away her confused greeting as she towed her towards the red car that the twins shared. "We're going shopping!" she repeated._

_She hadn't been able to say anything when the girl released her suddenly, heading for the driver's side door, and she was still speechless when Kannon unfolded himself from the front seat, holding the door open for her with a wink before crawling reseating himself in the back seat. "Sup, Jules? Damn…you make waitressing look _good,_" he chuckled, rolling his eyes when she didn't make her expected retort, only looked down at her blue uniform before sitting down mechanically._

"_What…what's going on?" she asked hesitantly._

_Mimi beamed at her, and the car slipped smoothly into the street, guided by small, graceful hands. "We're going shopping!"_

"_Um…yes…you've said that."_

"_Then…I don't understand the question."_

_Kannon stretched across the backseat and laughed. "We just kidnapped Hiro's girlfriend, Mimi. What's not to understand?"_

"_I'm not his g—"_

"—_Oh," she interrupted Julia's weak protest. "We're not kidnapping you, Julia. You need an outfit for tomorrow, and I'm here to help!"_

_She laughed weakly, turning enough to see the young deviant smirking at her in the backseat. "And what are you here—"_

"_I'm here for posterity," he supplied airily before she could finish, and she blinked._

"_That…doesn't even make sense…"_

_His smirk widened into a self-satisfied grin. "It does if you consider all the hot women to be found in the mall."_

_She wrinkled her nose, dismayed when she realized she was laughing. "You're disgusting."_

"_Forgive him," Mimi sighed, activating her turn signal with a wave of her hand, "He's a virgin."_

Now she stood lost in the midst of a sea of dress clothes, courtesy of the third department store they'd visited, and she still had nothing to show for it—though she was fairly sure she'd lost the ability to blush about forty-five minutes ago. That was something, at least. But there was still the small problem of having nothing to wear to her audition tomorrow.

'_I could just wear jeans and a dress shirt_,' she tried to reason with herself as she looked around, '_or I could wear my red dress again…_' That wasn't a bad idea at _all_.

And it wasn't like she had plenty of money to throw away on things she didn't need. She was a _waitress_ for crying out loud! Most of the time, she ate grilled cheese sandwiches, ramen, or spaghetti-o's so that she could afford to pay the bills and rent by the end of each month.

"So…" Kimiko began nonchalantly, dragging her fingers across a black sundress as she passed, "have you talked to Hiro lately?"

Julia glanced up at her companion, sweeping a black curl behind her ear. "Hm? Not since Sunday—hey, what do you think of this one?" she asked, holding up an above-the-knee dress of stiff brown fabric.

The young woman shot her an incredulous, open-mouth glance, and Julia quickly put it back on the rack. "Guess that's a 'no'," she murmured.

"A big one. Come on, Jules, _brown_? Seriously? You can do better than _that_…"

"A lot of women wear brown…"

"When they have blond hair and a tan—" Kimiko's thin finger pointed from her head, to her body. "And you have neither."

Blue eyes thinned. "Gee, thanks."

Kimiko must have missed her thinly veiled sarcasm, because her disarming grin widened before she turned to continue searching through the sea of dress clothes. "You're welcome, sweetie. You're lucky, you know? There are plenty of colors that complement your skin and hair. Brown is probably the worst you could have picked—_that_ one's cute," she praised as she passed by something orange—something that Julia ignored.

"Fuck," Kannon interjected lazily, stretching as he frowned at the seven-hundredth dress that had been pointed out—they were all beginning to blur together. "A dress is a dress. You wanna make a statement? Go in the buff. Works every time."

The woman laughed at him. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? I don't know whether you should get out more, or be leashed," she admitted with a sigh, her smile never wavering. "It's hard to believe you and Hiro are brothers."

He watched her from the corner of his eye, trademark smirk in place. "What's so hard to believe? We both think the same things—I'm the only one man enough to voice them."

"Of course you are."

"You don't have to humor me."

"Of course I do."

"Of course she does," Mimi agreed, taking over as her new friend went to check out something in bright green. "And you don't want to look like a leprechaun, Julia," she sang without looking at her.

Letting the dress float back into its original position, Julia turned on her heel with a frown and balled her fists on her hips. "Alright then. What do _you_ propose I wear? What are these '_plenty of colors_' you mentioned earlier?"

"Well, since you _asked_," she started with a grin, "if you're going for shockingly dramatic, you should go with a bright red. For a softer, sultry look, a pale pink and light make up—" Julia's brows raised. "—A deep purple—eggplant or plum would be stunning and elegant. Or you could go with a light blue. Something that would match your eyes. And you have beautiful shoulders that need to be flaunted, so an off-the-shoulder sweater dress would be gorgeous."

"_Please_ tell me you are going into the field of fashion," Julia pleaded after a moment of appreciative silence, eyes wide with admiration. "You really enjoy this stuff don't you? I mean…I love shopping, but…"

"Well…yeah. I'd be happy with either clothing design or interior design—" She cut herself off with a gasp, and disappeared between two racks of clothes.

"Where'd she go?" Kannon grunted from where he sat on the edge of a display table, but Julia only shrugged. They didn't have to wait long. They silver-headed hanyou emerged only moments later with a huge smile on her face and a dream dress draped over an arm.

"Don't thank me," she purred happily, hugging the dress to her and twirling gracefully on her toes before thrusting the article towards the stunned woman. "Just try it on and love me."

"Oh…wow…" She was silent as Kimiko led—or dragged, depending on how you look at it—her to the dressing room, and the girl wouldn't leave her alone once they were separated by the door.

She'd barely even shed her uniform, when Mimi interjected—almost anxiously, "And don't forget you'll be wearing black tights under it."

"Alright."

"Oh—and boots! You'll have to wear black boots, too. You have boots, right?"

"Yeah."

"Will they work with the dress?"

"…I don't know. I still haven't put it on yet."

Her shadow paced to and fro behind the wooden shutters. "Will you _hurry_? What's _taking_ you so _long_?"

"Mimi…relax. I'm working on it." She nearly laughed with she heard her friend release an aggravated and convincing growl, but sobered when she'd finally readied herself to look into the mirror.

An elegant off-the-shoulder sweater dress, just as Kimiko had suggested. She studied her shoulders carefully.

They were alright, she supposed. Slender, and she could see the curve of her collar bones over the hemline of the clothing. It showed enough flesh to be attractive without being raunchy—none of her very average-sized cleavage was showing, which she really liked about the dark, plum-colored dress. Another thing she really liked was that it would offer some semblance of warmth with its too-long sleeves, and the weather had been dropping rapidly over the past few weeks.

Mimi knew what she was doing—there was no doubt about that, and Julia had every faith that she'd make a wonderful fashion designer or coordinator.

The shutter door opened, and Mimi froze, eyes flying towards her. "Beautiful," she beamed. "I knew it would be. What do _you_ think?"

"I think you're going to make one hell of a designer," she admitted honestly, tugging at the comfortably fitting fabric.

The hanyou glowed at the compliment. "I didn't design this, silly. But thanks anyway. Now we just need to get you a belt."

It didn't take her long to change again. Fifteen minutes later, and they'd found the perfect black belt and tights. Another five, and she'd finished paying, waiting by the desk as Mimi went to retrieve her brother, who'd been flirting with some college student the last time they'd passed him.

"Finished already, huh?"

She rolled her eyes at him and held up the paper bag. "I could say the same to you, Don Juan."

"Ah, her? I got a number. …You're not jealous, are you? It didn't mean nothing," he said with a grin. "I don't _have_ to call her…"

"Show him your dress," Mimi urged, shaking with excitement. "Show him your dress! Hiro's going to love it!" The last statement was addressed to her twin.

As far as she knew, Hiroshi had no interest in clothing whatsoever. He didn't appear to be superficial at all, actually. "Who cares if he likes it or not?" she asked, almost irritated by the insinuation that she should base her wardrobe on the tastes of another. "_I_ like it—that's all that matters to me."

"_Finally_. Someone that _doesn't_ think Hiro pisses glitter," Kannon sighed with a grin, looping an arm over Julia's shoulder as they exited the doors, and started in the direction of the car. "Fuck him, come home with _me_."

"I'm pretty sure that'd constitute as statutory rape," she pointed out with an indulgent smile, grabbing his wrist and removing it from her shoulder.

"I won't tell if you won't."

"I like older guys. I'm afraid it'd never work out between us. …Your car is over there, by the way. And consider yourselves lucky—I need to rehearse my lines on the drive home!"

* * *

'_I hate ketchup, I hate ketchup, I hate ketchup…_'

Wringing the excess suds from the rag, she pulled away from the sink and smiled at a leaving customer. "Have a good day, sir," she told him when he muttered a 'thanks' and flung a few notes on the table. It was another slow day at the diner. But that wasn't unusual. It actually made _just_ enough money to stay open, with only one other waitress, a single cook, and Anne—who also helped out with the cooking.

But it was American food that wasn't part of a fast food chain, so Julia pledged her loyalty to it. It was her American Embassy. Her home away from home. Her greasy cheeseburger—with _bacon_.

Walking around the long teal counter, she headed for the nearest dirty table to frown at the red dab of the most disgusting condiment ever created before she wiped it clean, trying not to think about anything more serious than 'I hate ketchup,' least she begin to start worrying again. And worrying always led to freaking out, and freaking out often led to nervous breakdowns, and those just left her feeling drained.

And that just wouldn't do until _after_ her audition was finished.

Once she'd washed all the tables, she felt her mind begin to wander, and her stomach start to turn. So draping the rag over the divider of the two sinks, she washed her hands, and walked over to the diner's pride and joy—the neon jukebox.

She loved that jukebox.

The music hadn't been updated since the mid-eighties, and it was a miracle the thing still worked, so she made sure she never took it for granted. Now she only had to decide whether she was in a Buddy Holly type of mood, or if today was an Otis Redding day.

Neither, she decided, and sang along to the firm, vibrating strums of an electric guitar that was no doubt smashed to bits somewhere along the course of his concerts.

She grinned when the bell hanging above the door tinkled. Late as usual.

"Who sings that song?"—his normal greeting.

She looked over her shoulder to smile at her brother as he slumped onto a barstool, propping his elbows on the table, and running a hand over short, bristling ginger hair. Tall—taller than she was, anyway—and muscular, Jackson had always been a pretty daunting kid growing up—in the Bronx, to boot—and now that he was a man, nothing had changed. Well…he got into more fights…he also drank more than he did back when he was fourteen, but that was a given. And even though he liked to glare at random people, she knew he was a big teddy bear that loved joking around as much as the next guy.

"Jimi Hendrix."

"Right…why don't you let _him_ sing it, then?"

Her smile automatically faded into a pointed frown, and she glared at him—she'd had years of practice. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

Two pairs of identical eyes met, and two pairs of identical eyes rolled simultaneously. "Come on, Jules… The man choked to death on his own _vomit_… Give him a break—don't butcher his music."

"…Butt-head," was her brilliant rebuttal.

"And you're old enough to use big-girl words, too," he reminded her before slapping the counter with a big hand. "Hey, Anne!" he called loudly. "Make me a Philly cheese steak sandwich! And I'm hungry, so hurry it up!" He winked at the old woman when she stuck her head out the kitchen to flip him off. "Aw, don't be like that, Annie…"

"I'm busy. Get Julia to do it."

"_Hell_ no!" he said immediately, and Julia threw him another scowl. "No offense, Jules," he muttered, before finishing his shouting match with the closed kitchen door. "And busy with _what_? No one's here. Your cooking ain't _that_ good."

She stuck her head out the door again. "I got better things to do then make you a goddamn sandwich."

"Annie…" he whined, and caught Julia's eye with a grin. "Do I really need to tell you the story of my childhood again?"

The young woman rolled her eyes again, but chuckled when her boss's rough voice carried into the room. "Don't even bother. I know it ain't true, so it won't get you anywhere."

"Julia and I were born into a family of poor, traveling gypsies," he began—a different story every time. "We grew up barefoot, talking to circus bears and riding elephants bigger than this diner."

Anne opened the door suddenly, and hid a small smile as she pinned him with a pointed look. "What happened to your childhood as a matador's son? Or those flowers that you claimed to be born from?"

"Past lives, Annie."

The old woman sighed at his cheeky grin, and turning on her heel, disappeared into the kitchen yet again.

"You're such a liar," Julia muttered with a marked frown, a single brown carefully raised, and his own smile faded a bit.

"I don't lie, Jules. I tell stories. There's a difference."

And that was true.

Jackson straightened up suddenly, and motioned to the closed grey door. "Three," he muttered just loud enough for his sister to hear, "two…one—"

There was the sudden loud hiss of raw meat being slapped against an oiled stove. "I love you, Annie," he called out, grinning again when he heard her muttering to herself from inside the kitchen. His blue eyes fell on his sister. "Be a doll, Jules, and fix me a drink?"

She scoffed at him, crossing her arms over her chest as she leaned back against the counter. "Fix it yourself, I'm too busy butchering classic rock."

There was an aggravated sigh, and the screech of metal against ceramic as he slid off his barstool to make his way around the long bar. Julia carefully hid her smile when he snatched a glass from the counter, scowling at her the whole time. "Fi-i-ine," she relented, pulling the cup from his hands. "Go sit down. I've got it." She swatted his hand away when he rustled her hair.

"Thanks, Jules."

She pressed the Coke tab, and watched as the cup filled itself. "Yeah, yeah. And you may seriously want to redefine your attitude towards women," she added petulantly. "We're not servants, and we're not rides."

He plopped back onto his seat to watch her work, and accepted his coke from her. "What's this about '_rides'_?" His brows furrowed after a second. "You don't have a _boyfriend_, do you?"

"Don't be stupid. And if I did, he wouldn't think of me as a 'ride', I can promise you that. …I feel sorry for the women _you_ meet."

He glared at his sister before breaking into a small smile. "When I meet a woman that doesn't act like a 'ride', I won't treat her like one. Simple as that."

"You're a pig. And if you'd stay out of the slums—" The bell dinged again, and Julia excused herself to go see to the newest customers, returning a minute later to fix two more drinks.

"So…" he began slowly, unwrapping a straw, "I went by to see Mom after I got off work last night."

She glanced up from the soft drink dispenser, surprised. "Yeah? I stopped by a couple days ago. She's lost a little bit of weight."

"Yeah, she has. Actually got into it with Charlie over it."

Julia frowned at him as she left the counter with both glasses. "And did that make you feel any better? What good is fighting going to do her, hm?"

He waited for her to get back before he answered her. "It made me feel a hell of a lot better, actually. And the least he can do is make sure she's eating right. All that shit he put her through…"

She pushed the gray kitchen door open and saw her boss working at the stove. "Anne—I need a grilled cheese basket, and a BLT," before she let the door shut behind her. "And don't you think Dad's doing the best he can right now? It can't be easy on him."

"I don't know why you stand up for him," Jackson muttered in disgust.

"Because he's our father," she reminded him pointedly.

"He's not _my_ anything."

With a sigh, she brushed a stray curl away from her face and decided she didn't much feel like arguing with him on the subject. In fact, before he'd showed up, she'd done a fairly good job of not thinking at all—which reminded her—

The door behind her swung open and shut on its hinges, and Anne dropped the hot sandwich in front of the grinning man.

"Hot damn, Annie, have I told you lately that I love you?" he asked lightly, wrapping his fingers around the greasy sub. "I still say you should marry me."

She gave him an appraising glance over and sniffed. "You're too old for my tastes," she declared matter-of-factly, and he laughed at her. "Next time you pay for your food. This isn't a soup kitchen."

"Whatever you say," he agreed indulgently, taking a huge bite as she disappeared again. "God, this is a good sandwich…" He'd completely devoured half of the sandwich before he spoke again. "So," he muttered, dusting his hands of greasy crumbs, and pinning his sister with a _look_. "You going to tell me why you're mad at me?"

He looked serious and a bit offended if she didn't know any better, but her supposed anger was news to her. "_Mad_ at you? Why would I be mad at you?"

"You tell me. I haven't seen you since last Friday. My feelings are hurt," he intoned before taking another bite, and she smiled at him.

"Aww," she cooed without looking too terribly contrite, "were you _lonely_?"

"I'm just trying to figure out why you haven't been threatening to tear down my door lately. With as much trouble as you can attract, I wondered if you'd managed to find your way into some psycho's freezer."

"Oh, that's a lovely image," she drawled, flinging a dry rag at him, and he wiped his hands clean. "What a wonderful brother you are." Retreating into the kitchen, she returned a moment later to deposit two meals on their rightful table, before making a drink for herself.

"You're all right, right?" Jackson asked finally, eyebrows slanting in an almost grudging sort of worry she'd always been able to attest to him when she acted out of character. And going an entire week without visiting him—that was something she'd never done. Never—since she'd been born.

Her smile softened, and she pulled up a stool to sit down opposite him. His eyes stubbornly held hers. "Of course I am. I've been busy, is all." Suddenly her eyes brightened, and she shot up from her stool, hands slapping the counter in her excitement—her brother remained unfazed; he had gotten used to her outbursts long ago. "Oh!" she cried, "I made new friends!"

"New friends, huh? So _that's_ what you've been up to. I suppose I'm old news now, huh, Jules?" he teased, and she laughed, shaking her head at him.

"You've been old news for a long time now. Anyway, I thought you'd like that I have new friends. Now you don't have to spend Friday nights with me, and _I_ don't have to go to some raunchy club to watch my brother and women debase themselves."

"Never asked you to tag along," he pointed out, turning his attention back to his food. "You have a bad habit of just inviting yourself along."

"I do _not_!"

He shot her a look at her indignant response, but let it go. "So tell me about these new friends of yours before I have to go," he demanded without looking back up, and soon his mouth was full of the last of his food.

"They're siblings—gorgeous, all of them. And _weird_ as all get out. I met Hiro first—here at the diner, and later he gave me a ride when I got caught in the rain—"

"No shit…" Jackson murmured with a distant frown. "So you're friends with the guy that made you miss your audition…"

"I'm sorry," she murmured with soft sarcasm. "I'm afraid I've never met the Rain-Man," she pointed out with a raised brow. "But when I do, I'll give him a swift kick between the legs. Will that make you happy?"

"I s'pose. Smartass. What'd _really_ make me happy is you cracking a joke that's actually funny."

"_Anyway_," she continued with a scowl, "the girl is a few years younger than me—she may possibly be more spastic than I am. She and her twin brother took me shopping yesterday—do you know how long it's been since I went shopping with another woman? It's been like… three…_four_ years! And _that_ was awkward the whole time. But _this_ was really fun! And not very uncomfortable at all." She cut him off absently before he could answer. "Well, it can be weird sometimes—but only when Hiro's around because she's _convinced_ that I'm in love with him, and makes all these comments that I _know_ he can hear. But…they don't really bother me anymore. I've _actually_ gotten _used_ to embarrassment. How useful is _that_?" she finished excitedly. Her brother sighed.

"So let me get this straight: you've been embarrassed so much lately, that nothing embarrasses you anymore."

Her eyes were as bright and eager as ever. "Right!"

"You're warped. Completely bent."

"No, think about it," she insisted, leaning forward over the counter, her fingers splayed across the teal surface. "That means no stage-fright _whatsoever_. That I would somehow mess up and humiliate myself was half the battle—now that's not a problem. I only have to worry about nerves and the anticipation."

"Whatever you say. I'll take your word for it. Feel free to fix me another coke, by the way."

The door 'ding'ed again while she was busy scowling at her brother. "Feel free to bite me," she snapped back, but grabbed his glass anyway, eyes darting up when she heard a chuckle. She grinned at the hanyou, who'd seated himself at the bar near her brother. Rather than the loose t-shirt and sweats he seemed to favor when in his own home, he was dressed nicely, wearing the same reddish-brown leather jacket he wore the first time she saw him. "I thought you were working," she commented when he lifted up a hand in lieu of greeting.

"Lunch break. I have…forty-three minutes left," he explained, glancing up from his wristwatch.

"And you're spending them with me," she teased with a grin. "How sweet."

"Yeah, well…tension between my father and uncle… You _know _it's pretty bad when _I_ feel like I need a break from the office," he sighed, burying his face in his hands and exhaling slowly before looking back up with a tired smile. "Ah, well. Today's Friday. That's something at least."

"That's something at least," she repeated in agreement, setting the coke down in front of her brother, who was staring at the new arrival. "I'll be right back."

"So…you're Hiro, huh?"

The hanyou looked over to smile at the older man, who was currently judging him and sizing him up—he had to doubt about that. He'd also known who he was the moment he'd walked into the café. If the ginger hair hadn't given it away, or the way Julia talked so familiarly to him, his scent did it. It was different from Julia's, of course, but they shared a layer, an undertone. Hiroshi offered him his hand, nodding when the human grabbed and shook it briskly. "And you must be Jackson. She talks about you all the time." He looked up when the woman mentioned brushed back through the kitchen door.

"Then that's something we must have in common. Jules was just telling me how gorgeous you were."

"'Gorgeous', huh?" he repeated dully, sending a look her way that told him he was clearly displeased. "I suppose that's a step up from 'pretty', though." He turned vaguely disgruntled eyes upon her brother. "She actually called me 'pretty' the other day," he complained, and the man snickered.

"Jules… You don't call guys 'pretty'," he told her.

Hiroshi looked satisfied. "_Thank_ you."

"He _is_ pretty," she insisted with an impish grin, and she looked to him smugly, putting a slice of apple pie in front of him. "You _are_ pretty. Jailbait if I ever saw it."

"You're hilarious," he monotoned, but smiled his thanks when she handed him a fork, too.

She laughed, but he ignored her in favor of his dessert. "You don't have to tell me; I know already. Oh—are you leaving already?"

Jackson sighed and stretched his arms over his head after he stood. "Yeah. Gotta head out now, get back to work." With a sigh and a grin, he leaned over the counter to ruffle her curls again, laughing when she frowned at him. "Don't forget about me, Jules. Stop by and see me before next Friday, hm?"

"Yeah. Bye, Jackson!"

"Nice meeting you," Hiroshi offered over his shoulder, receiving a nod of his own.

"Yeah, you too. Thanks for the food, Annie," he called a bit louder. The bell sounded as he left.

Julia blinked when she saw that Hiroshi's plate was already cleaned. "Wow… You were hungry. Want me to get you something else?"

Amber shifted into a light gold when his eyes focused on her, and she smiled at him. "Nah, we have to go. Are you ready?"

Her smile froze as she paused. "For what?"

"To go, of course."

She bit her lip, grabbing his empty dishes to cart them to the sink. Had he really forgotten? "I can't go anywhere right now. I have an audition in an hour."

He looked at her as though she'd grown another head. "Yes..." he told her slowly, as though she were mentally incapacitated. "I know. What did you think I was talking about?"

She froze again. "Um…Oh. I don't…know?" Her brow furrowed, smile shifting into a frown; she looked like she was about to bust a vessel, he noted.

Hiroshi rolled his eyes, but his smile didn't fade. "Don't strain yourself. Are you going like that?"

She looked down at the blue waitress uniform. "No, I—_Hey_! What's wrong with this?" she shot at him, balling her fist on her hips as they cocked out to the side in a decidedly angry way.

"Easy," he laughed. "Nothing. Mimi told me you brought a dress yesterday. But if you want to wear that, by all means—"

"No, you jerk," she grumped, snatching up her duffel bag from the floor. "I'm not wearing this."

"Then go change. My break's going to be up before you even leave the diner if you don't hurry."

"Don't rush me."

He raised a brown pointedly at her, smirking the whole while. "Now you're deliberately being difficult."

She grinned cheesily and slung the duffel bag over her shoulder. "Maybe just a bit. So…what? You're taking me to my audition?"

He shrugged and met her eyes, and for a moment she thought she'd seen just a bit of Kannon in them—that absolute ease and carelessness. "You need a ride, right? Don't want a repeat of what happened last time."

Blue widened, but then she chastised herself for her surprise. Hiroshi was the kind of guy that'd go out of his way to help out his friends and family—even strangers. She'd known that from the get-go. Before she even knew anything about him other than his name. "Oh…a-alright. If your sure…" She was still a bit shaken when she slipped into the bathroom to change.

* * *

"Uh…Mr. Takenawa?" a young intern asked, rapping his knuckles hesitantly on the open door, and Hiroshi looked up from his work, brows raised inquisitively as he sat back in his chair.

"Yes?"

"The Tai Youkai wishes to see you immediately. He's on the bottom floor—lobby."

"All right. Thank you," he nodded, excusing the boy as he pushed away from his desk and stood, leaving the office not long after the messenger had. 4:53. Julia should be about finished by now if she wasn't already.

He wondered if she'd get a call-back. Even if she didn't, she'd probably have more success with her career than he was having with his at the moment.

The bar on Tuesday had been a bust—the bartender unable to tell him anything that he didn't already know. He hadn't even been able to pick up any useful scents—not even Katsu's, the youkai that had often been a sparring partner in the past—at his father's request, of course. For seven years, he'd trained with the lynx, and now everything about him was lost in a cloud of smoke and a huff of whiskey.

The descent from the twelfth floor by elevator hadn't taken too long, and was uneventful, quiet—a sheer contrast to the chaos that ensued the moment the doors opened again. He frowned, ears pinned back automatically as he took in all the grim faces, some he recognized, and some he didn't, and in the middle of them all, his uncle.

A path was made, and, brow furrowed, he nodded at some of his co-workers as he passed. He recognized several from his father's team.

Sesshoumaru shifted to face him directly, an angry glint almost imperceptible in his cold eyes. "This was delivered moments ago," he deliberated quietly, holding a clear, plastic baggie up for his nephew to see. He could tell the exact moment Hiroshi understood. Silver ears buried themselves in matching hair, and shock morphed into a hard expression. "They are toying with us, Hiro."

The hanyou hummed in agreement over the blood singing through his veins. He knew good and well that there wouldn't be a discernible scent on the baggie either. How many had touched it before it had reached his uncle's hands? Seventy? Eighty? One hundred people?

"What the hell is this?" came a loud, annoyed growl. The inu youkai lifted his gaze over his nephew's shoulder and watched his brother push his way toward the growing mass of youkai and hanyou.

"What do you want, Sesshoumaru?" the hanyou spat irritably, his anger towards his brother still a palpable thing days after the initial confrontation.

"I need you to confirm his identity," the youkai murmured, holding out the Ziploc bag.

Inuyasha stared at the baggie, ashes mixed with a cell phone, and his jaw set. The glower shifted from the ashes to his brother. "_Your_ hands," he repeated with a quiet fury, and pulled away.

With a sigh and a shake of his head, Hiroshi pinched the bridge of his nose, and followed after him.

* * *

_-le sigh- The next chapter will be better, I promise. What could be better than Hiro, Jules, and dear Roku all becoming friends over violent video games, huh? And of course, there's still that one…particular issue with Mimi and Inuyasha. That has to come soon._

_Trivia: Hiroshi trained with Katsu from the age of twelve to nineteen. They weren't best friends, but they most certainly weren't strangers either.  
_

_Next chapter: Friday night get-together, and chaos within the family.  
_

* * *

**_Quotes of Randomness:_**

_"Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes." --Walt Whitman_

_"Dean! Have you been shooting dope into your scrotum? You can tell me! I'm hip!" --Dr. Venture, The Venture Brothers_


	7. Lapsus Linguae

_Chapter 7: Lapsus Linguae  
_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.  
_

* * *

_Mmkay, so you may notice that this chapter is a little shorter than normal. There was more, but it's a long scene that really deserves to be at the start of a fresh chapter. So...until next time! Thank you so much for the reviews! (Also, I am proud to announce that I am no longer a teenager! That means I've been on this site for...what? four years? Jesus.)_

* * *

_ Climb down to test the waters,  
My hands feel like they're rusting away yea, yea.  
So I'll pace around like a lamb before the slaughter._

_--"The Theft" by Atreyu_

* * *

Her temple resting against the cool glass of the window, she opened her eyes and watched the trees fly by—great, bony, bearded trees that clawed at the dull winter sky. She could hear the pavement crunch under the tires below, and once again, her eyes drifted shut.

"That bad, huh?"

The vehicle smoothly glided into the next lane. "I don't know," she murmured with a half-hearted shrug, sighing when she _heard_ his wince and sympathetic smile. "No…not really."

He fell silent beside her, concentrating on the road, and she knew without looking at him that he was frowning again. She knew something was bothering him—though she wasn't sure if he'd appreciate her concern.

Sometimes Hiroshi was rather secretive. Even after only two weeks, she knew this.

After her audition, which had gone smoothly, Hiroshi had surprised her yet again by picking her up. She'd practically been bubbling with excitement once she was outdoors, and would have demanded that he take her out to dinner to celebrate a painless audition if he hadn't looked so moody and uneasy. And his mood had, for some reason, overrode her own previous joy.

He'd been scowling when she first saw him, leaning against the hood of his jeep, arms crossed over his chest as he stared without seeing. He was still carefully polite, of course, ushering her into the warm vehicle before sinking in himself. And for the first few minutes of the drive, she kept stealing glances of him from the corner of her eye. …He normally did a better job of masking negative emotions—that she knew this frightened her. And even now he was distracted, eyes always distant as he drove, and she listened to his soft music to pass the time.

With another quiet sigh, she straightened up in her seat and stared ahead, frowning when she realized that she obviously wasn't going to be dropped off at her house any time soon. This was the way to his house. Pale blue eyes flicked to her friend, studying his carefully blanked face and clenched jaw before noticing his knuckles pale as he tightened his grip on his steering wheel.

"Hiroshi?" she asked, voice no more than a whisper. Gold flew to her, and she winced when he forced a smile. "Where are we going?"

"My hou—aw, hell," he muttered under his breath, shooting her an apologetic glance and a half smile. "I wasn't even paying attention. I can take you to your house if that's where you want to go."

She shook her head, watching him from the corner of her eye. "I don't care. I don't mind going to your house, but…you look like you might need…some alone time," she admitted hesitantly.

He snorted, and she nearly smiled—if only it hadn't sounded quite so derisive. "Alone time is the last thing I need. And it's a Friday, so it's the last thing I'm going to get," he muttered.

"I'm guessing your day didn't get any better after you dropped me off."

His smile became bitter. "You guessed right."

"Want to talk about it?" She started when she heard his quiet gasp, and began to squirm in her chair when she felt him staring at her.

"Talk about it?" he repeated after a moment, and her brow furrowed, confused by his surprised wonder.

"Well…yeah. Like a confessional. It always makes _me_ feel better at least." She felt her face heat up when he continued to stare at and through her. '_I thought I couldn't be embarrassed anymore,_' she thought absently, meeting his deep eyes and covering herself with her arms. "You don't have to," she blurted out when the silence proved to be too much for her. "I just thought… I mean, I know I'm not your mother, but…" She cut herself off, and tore her eyes from his to stare out the window again.

And wasn't that what he needed right now? He rarely told his parents anything anymore—especially his mother, who had a tendency to completely overreact whenever she thought he was upset or sick. It had been that way ever since he could remember, and it had only gotten worse over the years—or maybe it just bothered him more. Either way, Miroku was his only true confidant. But there was something about Julia, too.

It was weird, wasn't it? They'd only known each other for two weeks, and it already felt like they were old friends, like they'd grown up together, sharing secrets.

"No," he agreed suddenly, quietly, "you're not." In the window, she watched his reflection smile softly as he turned onto a dirt road. "Confessions, huh? I'm not sure you can handle my baggage, Julia."

Her gaze snapped back to his, but then she relaxed—thank God the tension was gone now. And even if he chose not to confide in her, she knew the air between them had been mended. Somehow, with just a few words, she'd managed to jerk him back to her world. "We all have it," she assured him, voice low and soothing.

"…I suppose."

'_Oh_ _you can't seriously be thinking of pulling over… What a pussy,_' the voice griped, and his gaze narrowed.

'_Just_ _to spite you,_' he retorted pleasantly.

'_You asshole. Whatever. I don't care—do what you want, but don't be surprised when she goes and runs off cause you aren't man enough to take care of your own problems._'

Taking a deep breath, he surprised her by pulling over to park on the side of the road. "God," he muttered to himself, dragging a hand across his long face, "I can't believe I'm doing this."

'_That makes two of us, Dumb Shit._'

"…This must be really bad, huh?" she questioned quietly, taking in her surroundings before resting her eyes upon him.

He actually laughed at her, and began to back out, making to put the jeep back into drive, but her small hand clamped around his wrist, and he paused. She was amazingly strong to be so thin and frail and human. "Miroku should already be at my house," he hedged, obviously looking for some excuse out of this new predicament.

"You really don't want to talk about it? It's not an issue of trust, is it? Everything you say is between you and me."

She'd managed to surprise him again—brows raised with shock slowly melted into a firm, concerned slope. She was honestly worried that he didn't trust her? More like he didn't trust himself. All it took was one slip-up, one carelessly uncensored mistake, and she'd be horrified of him—and his family.

Her fingers twitched against his wrist before she left her hand slide back into her lap. He didn't bother hiding his disappointed frown, though he wasn't sure what, exactly, he was disappointed in—that she could make him give in so easily? That she wasn't touching him? Or that he was about to lie to her, and he _knew_ it. Not like he had much of a choice _there_ though. Maybe it was all three.

'_What the hell_,' he sighed to himself. "One of my co-workers—an old friend—has been missing for the past week," he confessed slowly, chewing on his words. "He was found dead about an hour ago." He watched her carefully, saw her eyes widen in horror and her face pale. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again.

"God," she breathed. "No wonder you're—oh, Hiro, I'm so sorry." And she really did look like she was honestly sorry for the death of a stranger, so he numbed a part of himself before even more questions were raised within him.

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"Are…are you sure about tonight? …I mean, I'm not going to be a bother, am I? I won't be insulted if you take me home," she assured him, but shut her mouth when he leaned over to flick her forehead with a finger, gold lightening in a careful amusement.

"Jules… Really. I'm sure. And I already told you that Miroku's there by now anyway. You can meet him."

She still looked unsure, rubbing the goosebumps from her arms as she stared ahead blindly, out the window. "How did it…how did it _happen_?"

'_It probably wasn't fast,_' he thought grimly in response to her question. '_If it was anything like the other murders, they took their time with him once he was no longer a threat, which means they probably took his hands first. Took his hands, then took their time._'

"I don't…know," he sighed, and gave her a questioning look, as though he were sizing her up, testing her waters, and she knew he was deciding exactly how much he wanted to tell her.

His job was something they didn't really discuss. Over the past two weeks—and of course their chance meeting almost three months ago—she'd gathered enough information that his job wasn't something he could talk openly about without having to bend or shatter the truth.

"Everything I tell you is meant for you only."

"Of course," she blurted quickly enough to almost sound offended, though she couldn't keep the horrified wonder and awe out of her voice.

"My father and I both work for my uncle. Father is the Head of Security, and I'm the Head of Investigation, sort of—"

"—So…" she interrupted, paused, bit her lip. "So you're the police?"

The smile he gave her was almost pitying, and she felt a spark of anger tamp itself out as quickly as it was struck when he ignored her question. "We've been after certain men for quite a while," he continued as though she'd never interrupted him to begin with, "but we made a mistake, and one of my father's men failed to touch base." His knuckles paled again as he clutched the steering wheel, and stared at her hand when she placed it over his. "Father doesn't handle these situations very well; he's not my uncle—he can't shut off his feelings on demand. Even if he could, he wouldn't. He's pissed, and I don't blame him. He trained Katsu himself—for _years_ he worked with him and trained him, just as he does with any member of his team. And after he trained me, as well, Katsu became my sparring partner." He ignored her involuntary groan—almost a whimper, too, and watched her hand tighten over his. "I _should_ be pissed, too, about what happened. But I'm not. I'm disappointed. If he went down _that_ easily—" he cut himself off suddenly, stilling himself so completely she wondered if he was even breathing. And then she watched, fascinated, as color rushed into his newly-paled face.

'_What happened to lying to her, hm?_' it asked curiously, too startled to be a bastard, but he ignored it. He was too busy trying to convince himself that something so heartless hadn't actually come out of his mouth—

To her credit, she didn't say anything, and she didn't condemn him either, though he had no doubt she had been a bit startled by his confession. And he really hoped he could just get to his house without it being brought up. "Never mind. Forget I said anything," he muttered, shifting the jeep into drive and pulling back onto the road. But not before he turned on his music—his security blanket if he ever had one.

Julia remained silent and staring. She knew—he'd just revealed more about himself than he ever had. Or at least, he'd just proved to her that he was real. Before he'd been untouchable, perfect. But now he was just a little more believable. Her eyes trailed over him, letting nothing escape her attention; she was startled out of her reverie when she witnessed a shudder run down his spine.

He was really upset. Well…of course he was upset, but she hadn't known that he was really, _really_ upset—about what he'd accidentally told her? Everything about him was coiled to spring, she noticed—it wasn't that difficult really. His knuckles were white around the steering wheel, his jaw clenched and ticking, his entire wiry posture stiff and rigid.

_Normally_ he was so much better at hiding discomfort and aggravation. _Normally_ the only way she could tell was the slight, defiant straightening of his back, or a sudden guarded look in his eyes that never quite reached his genial smile.

Now, however, he didn't bother hiding his irritation—presumably with himself. And under that was the smallest hint of fear—

'_Dammit_,' she thought in exasperated resignation when she realized what she was about to do, and knew that she had as much influence to stop it as an outsider did. Thoughts raced through her head, griping, but her heart was fluttering wildly.

Somehow even Hiro knew to snap out of his trance; he was staring at _her_ now.

"If he weren't my father," Julia began lightly, but Hiroshi didn't miss the quiver in her voice, "I would hate Daddy."

She let that hang in the air for a good long moment as she tried to get used to the feeling of release… She felt like she was almost about to regain her freedom, in a weird way. "I…I might already… I don't know."

"Jules…"

"And I don't exactly go around talking about my parents. Believe it or not, you're the first person I've ever told…not even Jackson," she mused absently with a thoughtful, distant frown.

That thought alone set off a pleasant hum of vibrations within his body. It was like a light switch had just been flipped—he suddenly realized that he really, _really_ liked this girl. Not in the 'Let's-get-married-and-pop-out-babies' kind of way, but in the 'you-make-watching-my-thoughts-difficult' kind of way. There was an easiness between them that rivaled Miroku's mellow friendship.

It was going to be difficult keeping _anything_ from her later on, he just knew it, but it didn't worry him as much as it should have.

And she'd single-handedly managed to shock the hell out of him practically every day they were together. He was beginning to get used to it. And he liked that, too.

"So," she added brightly with a smile not quite as genuine as she would have liked, "I won't judge you if you won't judge me."

He passed his parent's clearing, but he didn't even notice. "Too late," he murmured, wide golden eyes falling on her for a second. He cleared his throat, and smiled at the windshield. "Thank you."

She turned back to look out of her window when she found there was nothing left to say, but only seconds had passed before Hiroshi broke the silence, his voice friendly and smiling now.

He was back to normal.

"I should probably warn you ahead of time… Miroku is a little shy around people. And he's a _lot_ shy around women—"

"You mean to tell me there's a male in your family that _isn't_ completely self-assured?"

"Well…there's another thing…"

"Uh-oh."

"Miroku really is a good guy…" he hedged.

"But?"

"Until he plays video games."

This obviously wasn't what she'd been expecting. Her eyebrows flew up in surprise. "_Video_ games?"

"Do _you_ play video games?"

"…I _used_ to. Back when I was _twelve_."

"Well, that's a shame. That's pretty much all we do on Fridays."

She laughed. "You're such a dork."

He raised a knowing eyebrow, and tossed her a smug smile. "Well, then, what do _you_ do on Fridays?" She stopped laughing.

"So what happens when he plays video games?" And he pretended that she didn't just change the subject.

"Are you familiar with the concept of Jekyll and Hyde? …Well, when he's got a controller in his hand, he suffers from…Selective Tourettes, for lack of a better term. He becomes a completely different person and can't be held responsible for the things that come out of his mouth." He waited patiently for her laughter to subside.

"_Seriously_?" She looked excited when he nodded an affirmative, and was practically bouncing in her seat. "You _have_ to play video games tonight. I _have_ to see this," she told him quite seriously as he parked before his house, and turned off his car.

"Mm."

"What does that even mean?" she asked , opening her door and slipping out. "Is that supposed to be a lazy 'yes'?"

"Well…yes."

"Then say 'yes'. It's only a single syllable—" She stopped when she noticed the red-haired young man sitting on the small porch with his back against Hiro's door. He looked more boyish than his cousin, even though his face was just as long and thin and his muscles a bit bulkier. He was watching her, and when he noticed she was staring back, his face shot up in flames, and he quickly turned his attention to his chuckling cousin as the hanyou climbed up the two steps to stand before him, toeing the mat he sat on and fishing a key from under it.

"You know…you could have let yourself in."

"Eh. It's a nice day out, anyway," he replied automatically before his eyes flickered to the woman again, asking Hiroshi a question with his eyes.

"Oh—yeah, this is Julia. Julia, Miroku."

"H-hello," he stuttered nervously, picking himself off the ground.

"Hiro," she purred with a wide grin, "you didn't tell me your cousin was so _cute_!" She nearly laughed when the man's face heated up, and turned a violent shade of red. Hiroshi merely rolled his eyes, opting to hide his smile from his soon-to-be-frustrated cousin as he unlocked the door.

"…Um…Thanks?" he muttered so quietly and uncertainly, she almost missed it. She did, however, notice the obvious relief when her grin shifted into a genuine smile.

"I'm just kidding," she assured him before stopping herself short and thinking her words over. "Not that you aren't cute!" she hurried to add, frustrated and mortified when the man's blush deepened to the same shade as his hair. "It's just…um…"

Hiro was laughing at her now, hand still resting on the door knob.

"Well," she announced finally, awkwardly, clasping her hands behind her back, "this backfired pretty quickly." Finally Miroku broke into a hesitant, but amused smile. "I'm sorry—Hiroshi told me you were shy," she explained, her smile much less threatening now as she held a hand out for Miroku to shake. "I was just trying to break the ice. I'm not normally that annoying, I swear."

"She's lying," Hiroshi muttered as he passed them both on his way to the kitchen. "Don't listen to her."

She released the kitsune's hand to pass over the threshold and stomp after him. "Hey! I am not a liar, _you_…you _jerk_!"

"Yeah, yeah. I told you how she 'broke the ice' with me, right? She broke into my house."

She ignored Miroku's lazy grin, and glared at the silver-haired man with her hands on her hips. "Okay, now, I _really_ think you just need to get over that. That was ages ago."

"That was last week," he corrected.

A bottle of water went sailing over her head, and she heard it smack against skin—hopefully the open and waiting palm of the red-head somewhere behind her. She didn't hear a grunt that insinuated otherwise. He handed her a can of soda as he passed her to head for his living room, Miroku at his side.

"Since when do you keep _soda_ in your fridge?"

"Since Julia started morphing into Kannon."

"Since Hiroshi is a _nice_ person and a good _friend_," she corrected with a pointed look towards the inu hanyou.

Miroku collapsed across the love seat, feet hanging over the arm to rest flat on the floor, remote in his hand and an arm draped across his forehead as he flicked on the tube. "Kannon stopped by, by the way. He only stayed for a minute, though. He's got a party to get ready for apparently."

He grunted in response before swiping up the phone. "You like take-out, right?" he asked the strangely silent woman, who stood leaning against the door frame between the kitchen and the living room.

"Yeah."

"Anything in particular?"

"Wontons?"

"We get those anyway," Miroku told her quietly, eyes closed and face turned towards the ceiling. She studied him quietly for a moment, and as if he felt her eyes on him, his cheeks began to color.

"Well, good then. I'll eat anything really though," she added for the older man.

He nodded, putting the phone against his ear and walking back into the kitchen to place an order. Julia decided to use this time to get to know Miroku a little better.

"So…" she began inelegantly, rubbing her arms, "What do you do, Miroku? Do you go to school, or…"

"Ah, um—no—no school. I'm a video game designer," he told her quietly, tilting his head towards her, though she still couldn't see his eyes—his left buried under fiery bangs.

"_Seriously_? What is that like? I bet you actually have fun at work—can you wear pajamas?"

Though he still blushed, they weren't as noticeable, and his lips curved up into a barely-there smile. "It's pretty casual, I suppose. …I don't know about _pajama_-casual, but it's pretty laid-back."

She considered that for a moment. "So what does a video game designer do? Everything, or do you only focus on specific parts of a job?"

"I write plots a lot, but I'm trained to help out in a few other areas, such as calculations and graphic design, if they're low on staff or time."

She stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. "How _old_ are you?"

Flushing renewed, he stared back up at the ceiling again. "Twenty-two."

Suddenly, she was the one that looked uncomfortable. "Is _everyone_ in your family brilliant and successful?" she teased, fidgeting restlessly with the cotton material of her sweater dress.

For the first time since he laid down, he removed the arm covering head and met her eyes, his brow wrinkled, thin lips turned downward. With a soft sigh, he sat up and pinned his bangs away from his face. "My grandfather and his brother—Hiro's dad—have been around for awhile. They didn't have the best childhoods, and fought for families and success. In return, we're obligated to make the best of the resources given to us. Besides, opportunities and contacts go a long way," he told her with a smile, but she knew that wasn't true. Though it _did_ make her feel a little better for some horrible reason.

It wasn't that they had everything handed to them, as he'd implied. They really were brilliant, right? And they probably worked their asses off. She knew Hiroshi did.

But so did she.

Where does a twenty-one year old waitress fit in with certified genius' of about the same age—a game designer and an investigator?

'_The _Head_ of Investigation,_' she reminded herself, _'and a student_.'

"It'll be ready in fifteen," Hiroshi interrupted from the doorway, and she could hear the frown in his voice, and felt his eyes fall on her. Her stomach turned. She didn't know if she could handle pity-lies from _him_ on her make-do lifestyle.

But she didn't have to. He didn't say anything—just sat down on the couch with her and asked Miroku to toss him the remote. "She wants to play Halo with us tonight," he told the TV like a coward, and his cousin frozen, a stricken, panicked look flickering across his face.

"W-_what_? Hiro, _no_."

"And why not?" she cried out, drawing back to pin the flushed boy with heated, defiant eyes.

"Do you even know how to play?" he asked pointedly, and she made a show of wincing slowly, as if she was considering lying to him if only her brain weren't so slow.

"O-o-o-o-oh," she almost whistled. "Um…no—but I can learn!"

Miroku's astonished eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare, which he directed at his cousin. "You ass. You _told_ her," he accused.

Hiroshi weighed his options, and sighed in resignation. "…_May_be. But even if I didn't, she'd still want to play. She hasn't played video games since she was _twelve_, poor depraved thing," he added with only a touch of sarcasm.

Now both of them were glaring at him, which he honestly wasn't all that used to. _Multiple_ glares were meant mostly, if not only, for Kannon, Shippou, and his father. And _occasionally_ Sesshoumaru, if Kagura and Inuyasha were in the same room with him. "…I'm going to go pick up the food now. You two fight it out."

Miroku groaned when the door closed.

"I can play?"

"You can't ask me that," he muttered without meeting her eye. "It's humiliating."

She sighed. "Fine." After all, she'd been humiliated before. It wasn't very fun. "So...what kind of games do you make?"

His look of shock slowly morphed into one of caution. "...I deal with FPS's mostly." And then at the confusion she couldn't mask, he clarified, "First Person Shooter games." She still looked blankly at him. "Um…they're the games where you see everything through your character's eyes?" If she couldn't understand that much, then there was no hope for her.

"Oh! We—my brother and I—used to play a few of them when we were younger. Well…" she admitted with a blush, "Jackson played. I died. A lot." She almost grinned when he perked up suddenly, obviously intrigued now that they were back on his playing field.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah… So I mostly stuck to Nintendo games like Kirby. Or Diddy Kong Racing—Super Smash Bros. was great, too." And for a moment, she wished she was a kid again. "The memories of playing with my brother are the best I have, and quite a few of them involve video games."

He nodded slowly, obviously judging her through her taste and knowledge of games, which she thought was unfair, but whatever. Those _were_ kick-ass games, and she would defend them until the day she died—even if she never played them again. "What, uh, FPS's have you played?"

With a frown, she dug further into the recesses of memories where goopy, virtual blood ran down her computer screen quite frequently. She spent more time dead than alive. "…Quake? Is that what it was called?"

He looked appalled, as though she'd just broken some law of etiquette that was simply unforgivable—like picking at scabs or her nose before rubbing her hands on the couch. "_Quake_? …While I'll admit that it was a decent step in gaming history," he muttered grudgingly, "it's so…outdated…"

"I seem to recall Halo being a classic back then, too," she told him defensively—though she wasn't sure why. She really couldn't care less about Quake now.

Oh great. Now she'd offended him.

"You _cannot_ compare Halo to Quake. First of all, Quake was meant solely for the _computer_—"

"You're right," she interrupted rebelliously. "I _can't_ compare them. I've never actually _played_ Halo."

His mouth clamped shut against any retort he might have been planning, and his face reddened, though he didn't look embarrassed, so much as irritated at what he knew she'd just done. He looked like he wanted to glare at her, and she grinned when he finally did. "Fine," he snapped quietly, clearly sharing his cousin's regard on being manipulated. "We'll play."

Her grin widened.

O-O-O-O-O-O

Two hours later, Julia was sitting on her calves, unmindful of how far she was leaning forward off the edge of the couch, until Hiro would absently tug her back towards the back of it, only to repeat the process five minutes later.

Miroku, who'd actually scared the hell out of her the moment the game began, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, his contorted back pressed against the coffee table in front of her as he writhed and moved in the way he wanted his alien-killer guy to go.

Hiroshi, sitting on the opposite side of the couch, looked intense as well, and she was stunned at the way he seemed to melt into the game, all pretenses disappearing. She was amazed at the way his brilliant eyes glowed, his lips curling into anything from a smirking sneer to something akin to rage as he and Miroku fought for the lead.

Julia just died a lot.

And by 'a lot', she meant that they had to use the option screen to up the number of kills on an end-game, so that it'd last more than five minutes. She'd even managed to kill herself a few times.

"Stupid…analog…thingies," she grunted, working the joystick furiously, frowning when her vision went from complete sky, to complete ground. "How do you see things? I can't _find_ anyone."

"That's because you're staring at the ground, Julia," Hiroshi sighed, reaching over to tilt her joystick back. "Here."

"I can see!" She grinned, and tried to make her man walk, only to release a cry of dismay when digital grass and dirt filled her screen again.

"That's not the one you use to walk. …That would be your vision." He wisely smothered his grin.

"If you're making fun of me, you can go right ahead and shove your controller up your—_Son of a __**bitch**_," she yelped when someone sniped her right when she'd just started to right her vision.

Hiroshi, unaccustomed to her swearing, stared at her with wide eyes as her controller flew out of her hands and off the couch in her surprise.

"Um... Sorry. Wait...Who _shot_ me?" she began, quickly getting over her abashment and rounding on the two cousins angrily. "I couldn't _see_, you jerks!" She was barely able to see a wicked grin cross the face of the red-head in front of her, and looked at the screen just in time to see a blue fuzzy ball stick to her character. Moments later there was an explosion, and the Master Chief flew ten feet into the air, a victim of a plasma grenade. "No! Miroku--I'm not even _holding_ my ...remote...thing!"

"Stop—what are you doing?" Miroku asked, surprised out of his violent trance when Julia was suddenly kneeling on the coffee table, attacking his controller. The extraordinarily long sweats she donned, courtesy of Hiroshi ("Trust me. You don't want to play in a dress."), tangled around her feet and her bare elbow jammed into the half-eaten carton of forgotten lo mein. She ignored it.

"You're going to _kill_ him!" she cried, biting her lip in her determination to save herself.

He stared up in surprise to see the girl stretched over his shoulder, grappling for his controller. A green eye flew to Hiroshi, who wasn't even bothering to kill his laughter at this point. "You've _got_ to be kidding me…"

"You just _blew me up_! And I thought _Hiro_ was a jerk—I wasn't even ready yet!" she ranted, gasping in surprise when she heard a shot fired.

Miroku released a furious roar, leaning forward suddenly to hunt down that bastard of a cousin, and Julia's unavoidable tumble off the table was evaded only by a hand snatching at the back of the oversized tank top, throwing her back to the couch.

She was going to thank him, but he hadn't even looked away from the screen and was currently up against Miroku, himself.

Who was an excellent shot.

A growl escaped his throat as he waited for respawn.

"Take that, you shit-faced _boob_!"

Hiroshi's lips twitched involuntarily—that was one he hadn't heard before. Julia wasn't as skilled yet at hiding her amusement, but she didn't laugh out loud, so Miroku never knew.

"A tank again?" the kit sneered. "_Fuck_ the sniper; I'll rape you using only the _pistols_!"

And in the end, Julia had only managed to get four kills—three of which were Hiro, who, she strongly suspected, _let_ her kill him (even in the heat of the game, he was just nice like that). And her kill against Miroku was a freak accident. She'd pressed the wrong button to jump, and ended up launching a grenade, which ricocheted off the canyon wall, and stuck to Miroku, who was sneaking up to stab her with a sword.

She fell asleep on the couch while watching the two cousins battle one-on-one, her feet forgotten on Hiroshi's lap.

O-O-O-O-O-O

Hiroshi's phone rang.

"Ignore it," Miroku demanded, but Hiroshi had already planned to. It eventually stopped, but his cell started ringing almost as soon as his landline had stopped. The red-head groaned when the game was paused as the hanyou carefully maneuvered around Julia's legs to pull his cell from his pocket.

Miroku dropped his controller to the side, lifting his arms over his head to stretch, back popping grotesquely. "I'm still winning."

Hiroshi smirked. "Not by much." The phone flipped open. "Hello?"

"_H-__**Hiro**__!"_

He stiffened, smile dying at the sound of his sister's frantic voice. "_Mimi_? Mimi, what's going on? Why are you crying?" He automatically held a hand up when the kitsune before him twisted to face him made to stand, eyebrows slanted in concern.

"_Papa's m-__**mad**__!_"

"Why is Father mad?"

"_Hiro, he's going after Norio—I couldn't stop him, and he didn't take __**Tessaiga**__!_" she wailed, her voice cracking.

He paused to consider the implications of his father hunting down Kimiko's boyfriend. "Shit—Okay, is anybody hurt?" he asked in a deliberately slow, even tone meant to calm her.

"_**Papa is hunting Norio**_!" she cried angrily, incase it had slipped past him the first time.

"Dammit, Mimi," he sighed irritably. "Forget him for a moment. Are _you_ hurt?"

She quieted and sniffled. "_No,_" she muttered at last, and Hiroshi's fingers eased the death grip he'd had on his cell.

"Alright. Alright, good. Is anyone there with you?"

"_N-no. Kannon's at a party, and Mama's not here—she's on call this week. What if he gets into trouble?_"

"Okay. Miroku will be there in a minute," he told her, meeting the standing kitsune's eyes. A single nod was all he needed. "I'll call Father and see what I can do." He ended the call before she could say anything else, his skilled fingers already punching out the number to his father's cell. "I'm going after Father," he told him, phone already up to his ear.

The kit made for the door, but paused. "…What about Julia?"

Hiroshi glanced down at the feet in his lap. "Shit. Uh…She stays here, I guess." He heard the door open and shut quietly as the ringing finally stopped.

"_What?_"

"What are you doing?" he asked briskly, rising to his feet carefully and pinching the cell between his cheek and his shoulder as he scooped up the sleeping woman.

"_You talked to your sister then?"_

"I just got off the phone with her actually," he bit out as pleasantly as he could manage. He resituated the woman, so that one arm looped under her back and through her bent legs, freeing his other arm. "I could have sworn I heard her say you were hunting down her boyfriend."

"_Don't even bother, Hiroshi,_" his father snapped with a sudden, furious finality. "_If you try to stop me, you might just get that fight you wanted so long ago. Now get your ass to the house, and watch Mimi until I get back._"

He sighed, took a quick, but deep breath. "Father—stop and think about what you're do—_Shit_," he cursed as the line went dead. He quickly pressed redial, but the hanyou had already turned his phone off. He scowled at the cell in his hand before his eyes fell upon Julia's open face. And with a sigh, he nudged his bedroom door open with his foot, and placed her under the thick covers of his bed.

And then he was gone.

O-O-O-O-O-O

"He didn't even _hurt_ me," Mimi whimpered, shrinking further into the black safety of her brother's blankets when Kannon's murderous scowl fell on her. The boy had arrived not even ten minutes after Hiro had, and he immediately succeeded in reversing all of Hiroshi's attempts at making the girl intelligible.

Miroku, the smart one, had volunteered to make her some apple cider, normally a weakness of the exuberant hanyou, and was downstairs now.

"Did he knock some screws loose? He tried to _rape_ you, Mimi!" he cried incredulously, pausing in his pacing as he stood at the foot of his bed. "As in 'force you to have sex'! As in 'damn you for life'! How is_ that_ not hurting you?"

Her sobs began anew, and Hiroshi sighed. "Kannon—"

"And I don't want to hear _shit_ from you. You should be beside me on this—_she's your sister, too_!"

Glaring at his brother, he whopped him upside the head. "Show some tact, you baka." His ears perked when he heard the front door open and slam shut, the clash of keys being flung upon the desk beside the door.

Good. His mother was finally here.

"_Miroku_—where—?"

"Kannon's room."

Her youngest son wasn't given long to squash the urge to punch his brother, but he managed somehow before the door opened, and both of them where shooed away by the worried mother.

Almost thirty minutes had passed since Kagome had kicked them out of the room to talk to her daughter, when the phone rang. Kannon, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed and a surly frown, refused to acknowledge it. So with a sigh, Hiroshi pushed his chair back from the table, and glanced at the number that flashed across the back of the phone. It wasn't one he recognized. But there weren't _that _many people calling the house at one in the morning.

"Hello?"

"Put your mother on the phone," his father muttered gruffly, skipping the preamble, and Hiroshi checked the caller id again.

"Christ," he groaned. "Please tell me you're not in _jail_ right now."

"Is that the Old Man? I wanna talk to him," Kannon growled. He growled louder when his brother ignored him.

"I'm not in jail right now. Now put your mother on the phone."

"Jesus," he sighed wearily, thrusting the phone into Kannon's hands as he made for the stairs.

When Hiroshi entered, Kagome was sitting on the side of the bed, rubbing Mimi's back and assuring her that her Papa was fine. She looked at him expectantly, and he blanked his face as best he could. "Phone's for you," he told her, careful not to set Kimiko off again.

But even Mimi wasn't _that_ naïve. When Kagome's eyes widened, hers watered.

* * *

_-HOSHIT- Did we just see the other side of the scene from my Epilogue? Yes. Yes we did. Also, Inuyasha obviously begrudgingly forgives Sesshoumaru after he bails him out of jail without being a total dick about it--even though he's still pissed about his complete disregard for others. But he gets over it._

_I didn't review this chapter, so sorry for any typos. I'll go through it later, and see what I can do._

_Lapsus Linguae -- (Latin) Slip of the tongue_

_Trivia: Hiroshi hates being read. He's paranoid about people seeing his thoughts and emotions. (But I think you already knew that).  
_

_Next Chapter: The morning after. Julia and Mimi talk about Hiroshi. And other stuff that I haven't written yet..._

* * *

**_Quotes of Randomness:_**

_"This feeling that something is deeply wrong. Not basically, as some people might say, but deeply, as in to the core. Blood and bone. As in this is the stuff we're made of and there's no getting away." --"That Changes Everything" by Cathryn Alpert  
_

_"-awkward pause- ...Walker told me I have AIDS." --Haley Joel Osment on Walker, Texas Ranger (youtube that shit. I laughed until I cried.)_


	8. The Enlightenment

_Chapter 8: The Enlightenment_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha._

* * *

_Thank you for the lovely reviews! You guys are sweet._

_Alright. Before I start this chapter, I'm going to give you a fair __**warning**__: there are __**good**__ reasons why this story is **rated **'__**M'**__. One of them is in this chapter. __**Read carefully—gore ahead. **(Note that I've never felt the need to warn against violence in any other chapter.)  
_

* * *

_So they came into the outway  
It was Sunday—what a black day  
Mouth to mouth resuscitation  
Sounding heartbeats—intimidations  
Annie, are you okay?_

_--"Smooth Criminal" by Michael Jackson_

* * *

It was three in the morning before Hiroshi heard the door downstairs open and shut quietly. Kannon--stretched out on his stomach across his red leather couch, a curled hand dragging the floor--cracked an eye open mechanically, but he never actually woke up. That was something, at least, Hiroshi noted gratefully, taking one last glance at the unmoving, sleeping ball lost in Kannon's black comforter before stepping out into the hall.

She'd finally fallen asleep, so pitiful that even Kannon had no choice but to hide his outrage in favor of comforting her.

Both of them had been asleep by the time Sesshoumaru called him with news of his father's reported assault and temporary incarceration.

Congratulations, the shit has hit the fan.

When he'd descended the stairs, his parents were still in the doorway, slowly taking off their shoes and coats. He silently met his father's eyes, his face blank, yet expectant.

Kagome cleared her throat.

"Hiroshi," Inuyasha murmured at last, closing his eyes in a decidedly weary fashion as he dragged himself from the doorway, "now is _not_ the time for you to start arguing, alright? Whatever you have to say, it can wait until morn—"

The door shut and the hanyou clamped his lips together, brows drawing together as he met his mate's astonished eyes. She looked like she wanted to go after him—something must be wrong if polite, kind, respectful Hiroshi walked out on his father.

"Leave him alone, wench," he finally sighed, strangely pleased. "Pup's allowed to get angry without you diagnosing him with something."

She wasn't amused if the stony glint in her eye meant what he thought it did. He sighed again.

'_It's too late for this shit.'_

"Tomorrow morning, you're talking to him. And you should apologize to all of them, Inuyasha… Especially Mimi."

"She mad at me?" he asked, eyes darting up the stares before falling back to his mate.

"No, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't apologize for overreacting--"

He didn't have it in him to argue at the moment. He'd remember his fury in the morning, though, when he'd see his daughter. And he'd regret that he hadn't removed more limbs when he'd met up with the boy. '_Overreacting, my ass._'

* * *

Breakfast the next morning was a quiet, uncomfortable affair—the only noise, that of the silverware clinking against the ceramic plates and the occasional clearing of throats. _This _house wasn't used to that kind of silence.

Hiroshi grimaced at his food, guilt weighing in his stomach like hot lead as the woman beside him pretended not to be bothered by—or even notice—the overwhelming tension. She just ate silently like everyone else was doing.

He should have just taken her home this morning after she'd woken up. He must have been mental not to, after knowing how things had left off last night. But when his mother had called to invite him to breakfast for a family meeting, she'd automatically answered the phone lying on the bedside table, still half-asleep.

_Woken up by the ringing, he'd left his couch to watch from the bedroom doorway. He wasn't sure whether he should be amused or horrified when he heard his mother's stunned pause after the groggy woman had answered._

"…_Hello… I'm sorry, _who_ is this?"_

"_Julia," she'd sighed, rolling over onto her side, closing her eyes again. "Can I help you?"  
_

"_Oh. Oh! …_O-o-oh_" There was a short pause, in which the hanyou considered taking the phone from her to access the damage done. "Hello, sweetie," his mother said, a grin in her voice. "This is Kagome. Will you please tell Hiroshi that breakfast is ready, and his mother requires his company?"_

"_Mm. Hiroshi? He's not—" Her eyes shot open, and she sat up so quickly, the hanyou was amazed she didn't suffer from whiplash. She met his eyes, watched him grin as he shook his head with a sigh, and then she pulled the phone away from her ear to stare at it in horror, mouth gaping. "This isn't my apartment..." she mouthed to him._

_"No," he agreed, "it isn't."  
_

_On the other line, Kagome was laughing. "I'll see you two in a minute. Wear warm clothes--it's freezing outside," she reminded the girl before hanging up._

_"...I...I just answered your phone," she muttered, as though it were some big piece of a puzzle._

_"Yes, you did."_

_"And it was your mom..."_

_"Yes, it was."_

_"And I was talking to her while waking up in __your bed."_

_He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the door frame, eyes laughing at her. "Yes, you were."_

_The woman flinched, curling her legs under her and dropping the phone onto the pillow beside her own. "Did she get the wrong idea?"_

_"...Yes, she did."_

_"...I'm going back to sleep," she finally announced, tossing herself back onto the pillow, and burying herself deeper into the deep navy of his down comforter. "It's too early for this."_

_"I don't think so," he snorted, "If I have to be awake, then so do you."_

_She mumbled something--either about 'hair' or 'hell', he couldn't tell. And so he walked into the bedroom to promptly yank the blanket away, and she gasped._

_"Give it back!" she complained, glaring at him. "It's _freezing_, Hiro, you butt-face!"_

It had gone downhill from there. By the time they'd arrived, Kagome was no longer smiling. Instead, she kept sending pointed glares at her husband before motioning deliberately towards her quiet daughter.

At least Hiro'd had enough sense to prepare Julia before she walked through the door, brushing her up on a heavily censored version (one that didn't involve castration) of last nights events.

There was one point where Kannon looked like he was going to say something stupid and break the tension, but then he glanced at Mimi hunched over her plate, pushing her food around with her fork. With a sigh he closed his mouth.

Hiroshi, for one, was seriously considering pulling his father outside for a talk, and he had a feeling his mother would have appreciated it. He _knew_ Inuyasha—he knew he wasn't the most sensitive guy in the world, but he was a good man, and a hell of a father. _Surely_ he realized that his glaring and jabbing at his food was upsetting Kimiko… _Surely_ he realized that she thought he was upset with _her_, rather than her bastard of an ex-boyfriend...

He stiffened when he smelled the faint salty scent of tears. Mimi was staring hard at her eggs, eyes bright, and jaw clenched to keep it from quivering. She'd always hated crying. And she'd always tried to fight it when she felt the need to. Hiroshi was already pushing his chair away from the table when his father shot up, his chair scraping the floor and breaking the silence. And then he stalked out of the kitchen.

Even Julia looked up with wide eyes, fork frozen in mid-air above her plate. A door slammed somewhere on the other side of the house. Across the table, Mimi's hand flew over her mouth to stifle a sudden hiccupping sob, and out of the corner of her eye, Julia saw Hiroshi stand, but Kagome was already on her feet, holding up a hand to stop him as she started for the hallway leading to the backdoor. She'd only taken a couple of steps before she looked back at her daughter.

"He's not mad at you, Mimi," and even Julia could feel the tangibility of her quiet, soothing voice. "He was worried about you." She went to go find her mate after that, and Mimi left out the front door immediately after.

Kannon sighed and met his brother's coolly frustrated gold. "You go," he muttered. "You're better at that kind of stuff than I am." Yeah, he was Mimi's best friend—he knew everything about her. But he also knew he took after his old man a little too much.

With a nod, Hiro rose to his feet, pausing when Julia's fingers curled around his wrist. "Let me talk to her?"

If he was surprised at all by her offer, he didn't show it. He just looked from the direction his sister had gone, to the direction his parents had gone, and finally back to her. "Yeah. Okay." With a nod, she released his hand, and stood as well. "She'll probably be at the pond," he told her. "It's not too far into the woods facing the right side of the house. You'll see a small opening in the trees, and a dirt path. Follow that, and you should find her. If not, come back, and Kannon will help you look for her. I'm going to talk to Mother and Father."

He excused himself as she made a beeline for the living room, and when Kannon, who'd followed her, sent her a questioning look, she grabbed a thick, woolen blanket that had been folded in a wicker basket beside the couch. "She forgot to take her jacket..."

He watched her leave the den, pass the kitchen entrance, and walk out the front door.

* * *

Kagome sighed, leaning back against the trunk of the tree she'd found Inuyasha in, as the hanyou—rage refueled—paced back and forth before her. He'd been ranting for two minutes now.

"Why couldn't we have had ugly children?" he demanded in a familiar moment of pig-headedness. "Had to have the ones that everyone wants to rape."

Kagome couldn't decide if she wanted to smile or sit him. So she did neither. "…I don't think people want to rape _all_ of our children, Inuyasha…"

Her calm tone did nothing to appease his palpable fury. "Keh! Well, one's fucking enough, isn't it? And don't even get me _started_ on you, wench. Can't even go to the fucking _supermarket_ without slimy bastards asking you for your number."

"Don't tell me you're jealous," she teased, but her grin vanished quickly enough when he glared silently at her.

"This isn't a fucking joke, Kagome."

She fingers circled loosely around a wrist, and she met his fury with a gentle smile. "I know it isn't, Inuyasha. Calm down. I want you to tell me what happened in the kitchen just then."

"I actually wanted to talk about that, too," Hiroshi mused, eyebrows rising slowly, questioning the legendary hanyou. Both parents turned their heads to look at him.

Inuyasha jabbed his index finger harshly toward his son. "Your sister is never dating another boy as long as I'm alive. If you see anyone so much as _look_ at her, I want you to take their eyes. Got that?"

The young hanyou chuckled quietly. "I'll see what I can do."

"Keh! Fucking bastard," he muttered darkly under his breath. "I knew he was scum the moment I saw him. And I told your mother as much." He cast a half-hearted mutinous glare at his amazingly patient mate. "But did she _listen_? No. Because that'd be too fucking convenient for me."

"Inuyasha. Sweetie. You're being an ass," she informed him, pushing hair out of her eyes.

"You're acting like this is a new development."

Inuyasha switched his mutinous glare from his mate, to his son. "Are _you_ turning on me, too? Shit—I get enough of Sesshoumaru at the fucking office. I don't need my own pup turning into him," he grouched. "Which reminds me—I'm not fucking allowed to be pissed at _him_ anymore because he bailed me out of the goddamn jail! Shit—this day keeps getting better and better." He glared at the sky for a moment. "…Fuck," he murmured under his breath before inhaling and exhaling slowly.

Kagome drew her brows together as she stared at her husband, unable to hide her disappointment, and his ears flattened against his skull.

"Sorry," he muttered, crossing his arms over his chest and staring off into the forest with a scowl.

Hiroshi was quiet, and he exchanged a look with the miko. "Inuyasha… You hurt Mimi's feelings," she told him quietly. "I thought you were going to apologize to _her_—_I_ don't need an apology."

Inuyasha was still scowling. "Fine. I was gonna talk to her anyway."

"Just…try to be sensitive, Inuyasha. Please? If she thinks that you're mad at her, then you'll upset her more. And if that happens, so help me, Dog-boy..."

"Alright, alright. Stop threatening me, wench."

"Oh. And another thing," she continued as though he'd never opened his mouth. "If I find out that any variation of the phrase "never dating again" is used in your talk with Mimi… You might be right there beside Norio in the bedroom department."

He glared at her.

She glared back.

"Bitch."

"Ass."

And then they grinned at each other.

"I'm going inside now," she told them, pulling her mate's face down to kiss his cheek. "I'm trusting you to be mature enough to handle the situation on your own. Please be good."

"I'm not a pup, Kagome."

"That's debatable," she told him over her shoulder as she headed for the house.

"We'll continue this discussion tonight," he promised her, and she told him she'd hold him to it as she headed back into the house.

"Please keep the foreplay in the bedroom," Hiroshi sighed. "I really didn't need to see that."

"Keh. Gotta learn sometime." The smirk faded, and Inuyasha studied Hiroshi quietly for a while. "You okay, pup?"

He almost looked surprised. "Yes. I'm fine."

His father continued to watch him quietly, clearly disbelieving him, but unwilling to say as much. "…'Kay."

The hanyou sighed. "Look, you were being unreasonable last night, but I shouldn't have walked out like that—"

"Goddammit, Hiroshi," Inuyasha muttered, though there was no real censure in his tone. "You're a man now—would you stop apologizing for stupid things? I'm not mad at you; I just wanted to make sure everything was fine."

"It is," he told him.

"If this is about Fujiwara—"

"It's not. I'm fine." He paused, grimacing at the man. "Are _you_ alright? I mean…you _did_ train him."

"And you trained _with_ him," Inuyasha reminded him. "I'll live. I'm more worried about his old man… I still can't figure out what the fuck Sesshoumaru was thinking…"

"He made a mistake."

Inuyasha jerked his gaze back to him, face hardening. "A man died, Hiroshi," he bit out, his tone clipped. "Of course it was a mistake, but that's not bringing Katsu back to life, is it? That's not going to make his mother stop crying, and that's not going to mean jack-shit to his old man. You make it sound as though Sesshoumaru forgot to pick up his dry cleaning or some insignificant shit like that. Weren't _you_ the one that told me those kinds of mistakes are unforgivable?"

Hiroshi remained silent, and Inuyasha sighed, crossing his arms over his chest again.

"We'll just have to step it up a notch, I suppose. Maybe you should start taking on and training new men so that we can have more eyes and ears on the cities. Maybe we'll get lucky."

"Fucking council," the hanyou added, just for spite. "…Maybe you're right. Whatever we're doing, it's not enough."

"Yeah. …I'm thinking about dropping out of school, and working full-time."

"No, you're fucking not," Inuyasha told him with a snort. "You've got one more semester left now. You drop out now, and I'll kick your ass on principle. And then I'll kick Sesshoumaru's for good measure."

"This has nothing to do with him," he told the hanyou quietly.

"Then I'll kick it just for shits and giggles." –his son grinned—"Look, you drop out, and asses _are_ getting kicked. I don't care whose they are. And that'll be _nothing_ compared to what your _mother _will do when _she_ finds out." He grimaced. "She'll get pissed at _me _for some reason—she always does, and then _I'll _get even more pissed at _you_, _more_ asses will be kicked, and you'll have a shit week. Or month. _Hell_, let's just go ahead and call it a _year_."

He held his hands up, palms facing forward in surrender. "Jesus—_fine_. I won't drop out. …It was just an idea anyway."

"A _stupid_ one, considering all your arguments with my bastard of a brother." When Hiroshi didn't reply, Inuyasha chose this moment to make a smooth transition into another topic he felt needed to be addressed. "So…what's going on between you and the girl?"

The unexpected question threw him off, and he blinked for a moment. "Julia, you mean?"

"How many other girls do you have in your life, Hiro?" he asked sarcastically, snorting when he rolled his eyes at him.

"Not you, too," he sighed. He'd have thought that the last person to ever hound him with questions about 'girls' would be his father. "We're friends."

"Just friends, huh?"

Hiroshi narrowed his eyes at his father's pronounced snort. "I haven't even really known her for a month. It's a little soon to start sending out wedding invitations, don't you think?"

"Kagome said she spent the night with you."

"I slept on the couch."

"Where did she sleep?"

'_Tell him you fucked her senseless. That'll shut him up_.'

Inuyasha's smirk faded into a frown when a low growl ripped through the young hanyou. '_You are the most repulsive—_'

"Hiro?"

Amber snapped back to meet questioning amber, and Hiroshi's growl ceased immediately. "…Did Mother put you up to this?" he asked, pleasantly annoyed once again. "You normally don't care about my love-life."

"…Maybe." Inuyasha was still watching him.

"I should have known. ...I think I'm going to go check on Mimi and Julia—make sure everything's okay."

"Julia's talking to Mimi?" the hanyou looked surprised.

"She's not just _my_ friend, you know. She _does_ still talk to other people…"

Inuyasha shot him a half-hearted scowl. "Smart ass," he muttered. "Alright. I need to talk to Mimi anyway, so…"

They walked to the pond in silence, the bitter wind against their faces, and when they finally arrived, the girls were still talking. "Let's give them a little more time," Inuyasha muttered, leaping onto a thick branch overhead and settling back against the trunk to close his eyes.

They hadn't been there long--three minutes he guessed, when he heard the leaves above him rustle and looked up to see his father standing. The hanyou's eyebrows were drawn together as he stared ahead, concentrating on something. Blazing golden eyes, always so expressive, widened a bit before narrowing in confusion, and right when Hiroshi was about to ask him what was wrong, the wind blew the soft, low voices to his ears.

His father touched ground as he blanched, stiffening, and he hadn't even realized he was following after him until he heard his father's firm, questioning voice, interrupting the conversation.

"Kimiko."

* * *

Julia found Kimiko exactly where Hiroshi said she would be, sitting on the cold, dew-damped grass with her arms wrapped around her knees as she stared out over the lake. She wasn't crying, but her eyes were red, and the woman said nothing as she shook out the blanket before sinking to the ground beside her.

Mimi offered her a weak smile when she draped the blanket around both of their shoulders.

"You know…" Julia finally began, lightly bumping her friend's shoulder with her own, "your mother was right. He was just worried about you."

"I know," she sniffled noncommittally, pushing some of her silk hair away from her face for lack of anything else to do.

"Are _you_ angry at _him_?" she asked curiously. The girl shook her head jerkily.

"I don't get angry at Papa. Or Mama. Ever."

"You know he's not mad at you, right? You told me yourself—'you don't get in trouble'."

Kimiko smiled, but it faded. "He almost got into a lot of trouble because of me. Because of that jerk," she added, with a faint trance of anger. "I should have broken up with him the moment Papa told me he didn't like him."

Julia chuckled, and Mimi gaped at her—unsure if she should be offended or not. "I have a feeling that if you started doing that, you'll never find man. That's how it normally is with fathers and daughters, I think. No one will ever be good enough for you."

"…Maybe. Norio wasn't."

And that was the most vindictive thing Julia had ever heard her say. She watched the girl glare across the pond. "No. He wasn't," she agreed. "You know…you're a lot stronger than I first thought you were."

A wry smile was slow in the making, and she made no move to look at the woman beside her. "You obviously haven't seen Norio. If I can hold my own against Hiro and Kan, then _he_ didn't stand a chance. He had no real strength—just hid behind his good looks and money and overdosed on hair gel."

Julia was quiet for a while. "…Then why did you start dating him."

She released a deep breath and shrugged. "I thought there might be more behind his cockiness. …You've seen some of the guys in my family—and _they're_ all really sweet. Besides, he asked me on a date, and Mama said I could go."

"Your family is a rare breed," Julia informed her, pulling the blanket closer to her body when a sudden chill disturbed her curls. "A lot of the guys I meet aren't very good people."

"...Don't take this the wrong way, but… I'm really glad you missed your audition that day."

She smiled when the younger girl leaned her head against her shoulder. "…It wasn't the worst thing that ever happened to me," she admitted, and the girl laughed.

"I'm sorry I'm taking up precious time you could be spending seducing my brother."

"There's always tomorrow,"—Mimi laughed again—"Anyway, he went to go talk to Inuyasha."

The hanyou winced against her suddenly, her ears instinctively burying themselves in her hair.

Julia looked at her as she righted herself. The playful air had survived for only a moment before it had been extinguished. "What's wrong? Do you not want him to talk to your dad? …I can go get him if you want."

Silver hair dusted thin shoulders as she shook her head slowly. "No. It's fine. I just…I feel bad for always putting everything on Hiro," she admitted, her brow furrowing as she drifted off into her thoughts before murmuring, "Kan does it, too, which is…" She looked like she was just seeing something that had been in front of her nose the whole time, Julia noticed. "I did it last night, even. And I've done it countless times before that. We make a mess, and he cleans it up without even asking for thanks." Her hands, still a light brown from last summer's fading tan, dug into the frozen earth at her sides, and she actually started when the woman laid a light hand on her shoulder.

"Well, he's your big brother," Julia assured her with a wan smile. "That's his job—and something tells me he doesn't mind it when you come to him for help."

If anything, Kimiko looked like she was more upset now. "He should, but he doesn't. And I think we've taken advantage of that. We call _him_ when we're in trouble so that Mama and Papa won't look at us differently."

Julia didn't have anything to say to that so she tore her eyes from Mimi after a few moments of silence passed, and instead she watched the morning fog roll across the pond and clutched the thick wool of the blanket even closer to her body.

"One time," Mimi whispered, her face paling and eyes widening—"One time, Kannon almost _died_." She felt Julia fall still beside her, felt her shocked eyes but couldn't meet them. "He was _dying_, and I didn't know what to _do_. I called Hiro even _then_," she whispered in horror, and Julia watched a tear fall from her lashes to land on her cheek. "Mama's a doctor, but I couldn't…and I knew Kan wouldn't want her to see him like that. And my first instinct was to call _Hiro_—let _him_ take care of it."

Her hand dashed across her cheek and she sniffled. "He was amazing, really. It didn't take him any time at all to find the party we were at—he even came prepared." She laughed and it came out as a choked sob. "Kan wasn't breathing, but then Hiro stabbed him with a needle—he really _stabbed_ him. It wasn't just a gentle prick like they do at the doctor's… And for a moment I thought if he wasn't dead before, he was then. But then Kannon just…woke up."

Jules felt her breath escape as she tried to imagine a scene in which Hiroshi handled an overdose just as easily as he handled those rude men in the diner that one day.

"Then he took us to his house, gave Kan a shot of something else and stuck him in the shower until he came down from his high. He even called Mama and Papa and told them that he was letting us spend the night with him. He lied to _Papa_ for us. And I can't help but wonder what would have happened if he hadn't known what to do…"

"God… Your parents still don't know?"

Mimi shrugged and hugged her knees to her chest to rest her chin on them. "Hiro didn't want us to tell them, and we didn't see any reason to after Kannon was alright again. 'No point in getting our asses chewed out if nothing happened,' Kan said. But I think Hiro was more worried we'd turn into a charity case, too."

"A charity case?" she repeated, jerking her head back in confusion. "What?"

Kimiko stared at her in disbelief for a long moment, brow wrinkled. "You mean you _really_ haven't _noticed_?"

"…Noticed what?"

"That I'm a daddy's girl, Kannon's a mama's boy, and Hiroshi's… Well, he's the oldest, but they treat him like the baby most of the time. He _hates_ it."

She frowned thoughtfully. "Well, yeah…I suppose…"

The hanyou snorted, wiping away the last traces of her old tears. "It's not that hard to see. Even _they_ realize that he loathes being protected like that, but I don't think they can help it anymore. Papa at least tries to give him space. Mama can't even do that now."

"They're just being parents, right? I wish my dad cared enough to meddle in my life sometimes."

Mimi stared at her for a moment before flashing her an odd, sympathetic smile that made her lower her eyes. "I think I meddle enough for your entire family."

"That's certainly true. …Has Hiro ever said anything to them about it?"

"Yeah, but he's Hiro. He's rarely rude if he can help it, and he hates snapping at Mama or Papa—especially Mama. I've only ever seen him truly mad a couple of times."

That was a weird thought… How many times had she seen Jackson furious? She'd be counting for days… The thought of Hiroshi never getting angry made him sound like a drugged doll, and she frowned at the girl. "I'm sure he gets irritated, Kimiko, but I think he's just more reasonable about it than a lot of people are."

"That's one way of putting it. Maybe it just seems so strange to me because—look at the rest of the guys in my family... …Anyway, it sort of came to a head after he graduated from high school. He actually slammed the door in Mama's face. I remember watching through the kitchen window—he was yelling at Papa about it in the yard." Her smile was dry, sad. "He was yelling because Papa wouldn't hit him for it—'If it had been Kannon, you would have kicked his ass!'" She made air quotations with her fingers.

"Your father would have _hit_ him," she repeated, slowly, alarm rising. "As in _punched_ him? His own _son_?"

"Not really…" she said slowly. "Not in the way you're thinking. We fight a lot in our family. It's like a sport. We're all trained in martial arts and weaponry. So when we get angry, we have fights, challenges. Also, Papa's really, really protective of Mama. No one hurts her and walks away without a broken nose or busted lip or worse. …You heard what he did to Norio… It's even worse when Mama's involved. So when Papa wouldn't fight Hiro, he felt like Papa considered him too precious and fragile." She paused to consider something for a moment, before wondering aloud, "…I don't see _why_, though—I've seen him beat Uncle Sesshoumaru _and_ Papa before. Hiro made it look _easy_."

Julia had never seen any of them fight, but judging from the awe in Kimiko's expression, they were impressive. And she was sucked into this story now, and didn't even think about the fact that Hiroshi might not appreciate her snooping into his memories without his permission. "What happened then?"

Mimi shrugged again. "He just sort of…crumbled. He was angry one minute, furious, and then he calmed down and apologized to Mama. Everything went back to normal. Then Kannon suggested getting him his own house before college started. Mama said no, he's too young. And then after Papa thought about it, he reminded her that she was his age when they got their house. There was a lot of drama that summer involving Hiro… He hates drama, too. Don't be surprised if he's in a bad mood for the rest of the day," she added, cheeks pinking.

She considered that, and her forehead puckered. "Wait…so it was _Kannon_ that helped Hiroshi get his house?"

Mimi laughed at her stunned disbelief. "Believe it or not, Kan and Hiro get along a lot better than they let on. Kan treats him like he treats everyone else, if not as a hero figure, and Hiro swears he finds Kan annoying. But he really loves that there's someone who refuses to baby him—doesn't see him as weak. _That's_ why he gave Kannon a copy of the key to his house, and _that's_ why he denies he ever gave it to him. They love antagonizing each other. It's one thing they have in common."

"You keep saying that people think he's weak, but then you say he's strong…"

Mimi grinned at her, exuberantly forthcoming as Julia expressed interest in her single, older brother. She bragged on him. "Oh, he is. You need to come see him fight soon—we have family tournaments. It's so much fun! He's as strong as Papa sometimes, and faster than my uncle when he really sets his mind to it. But they're all about even, I think. I've seen both win, and both lose."

"Then why do your parents think he's weak?" The idea that the man she knew was weak was absolutely absurd to her. So his muscles didn't bulge—big deal. So he was very mild-mannered most of the time—who cared. The way he held himself as his father did, like he'd actually seen and survived things she couldn't imagine… There was no way he could be considered 'fragile', right? "Surely if they let him participate in these fights you're talking about, they can—" She stopped mid-sentence and shot the hanyou a frightened glance. "Did he…have an accident like Kannon?"

Kimiko's soft laughter chimed like bells, and she brushed her wind-tossed hair out of her face again. "Hiro's never been experimental like that. Even when he was young, he was 'the good one'." Her smile faded a bit. "And I don't know what happened. I remember something big happening when I was little…five—maybe younger, but it's not something we ever talk about now."

"Something big..." she mouthed silently to herself, staring back out over the pond. She did the math in her head--he'd have been ten or eleven, if Mimi was four or five.

"I...think I didn't see him for a long time," she murmured, sounding unsure, confused. "But it was such a long time ago... I just remember things were different after that. They felt different." She rolled her eyes, dismissing her words with a smile. "But I don't even remember why I thought it was different. I don't remember what changed."

"Kimiko." The quiet, demanding, yet somehow questioning voice broke into their thoughts like cannon fire. With a gasp, the girl whirled around, and she nearly cowered like a spurned puppy when she met her father's eyes. Beside him, his face just as unreadable as Inuyasha's, Hiroshi stood, staring over their heads and across the water. Inuyasha's eyes flickered from his daughter's to Julia for just a second, and she felt cold dread beginning to creep within her.

"Come on, Julia, and I'll take you home." His gaze finally dropped to meet hers.

And she felt her stomach drop. She didn't know how, but she knew he'd heard. And he wasn't happy. She stumbled to her feet, the stiff blanket slumping to the ground as she whispered a quick goodbye to Mimi, and she meant to follow after him, when Inuyasha caught her by the elbow as she passed him.

She looked up, but couldn't meet his eyes, instead staring at the spot over his right shoulder. "You know what they say about assumptions?" he asked gruffly, quietly. "That whole 'ass' thing? That applies here. I've never thought Hiroshi was weak. Ever. You should know that."

"Julia," Hiroshi called again further ahead now, and she rubbed her arm nervously when the hanyou released her, dismissed her without a word.

She had to jog to catch up with him, but when she reached his side, she fell into step beside him though she avoided looking up at him, and she was pretty positive he wasn't looking at her as they crossed under the arch of frozen trees along the path.

"I'd appreciate it," he finally said with a small smile that failed to touch his eyes, "if, in the future, you'd come to me with any questions you may have about me, rather than asking my sister."

She flinched, freezing in her tracks as he continued down the dirt path. Beneath his silky tone, his words left her feeling cheap, a horrible person. She hoped he didn't think she'd taken advantage of his sister's distress. Just the idea left a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she had to clutch at it. "Hiroshi, I'm sorry. I really—"

"I know. Come on. It's cold out here."

* * *

Running a hand through his thick hair, he sighed, pulling out of the alley's mouth to lean against the grungy brick wall. "It's fucking freezing out here," he grouched out loud, lifting his eyes to the pitch sky. He could see the barely-there crescent of the new moon peaking above the tall walls of the alleyway that sandwiched him.

There was a grunt, a sound of skin slapping skin, and a whimper. "Little bitch _bit_ me!"

Eyes, the milky color of days old piss, drifted to the left, deeper into the alley's shadows. "Well. Bite her back." He flashed the youkai a quick, toothy grin, before letting his vision nod back to the towering brick before him as he waited.

Red blinked continuously the whole while, a steady, strumming, small light that flashed upon the walls.

Muffled screams and sobs escaped with the first, shocking hints of blood, and he bit his lip to stifle the instinctive, jealous snarl that nearly curled his lips. Normal people, good people weren't like this, he'd told himself before they'd even intercepted the girl. The girl who'd had a good time at the movies. The girl who'd been laughing with friends before the inevitable walk home. The girl whose eyes were now rolling around in her head with crazed fear. And to think— _he_ was once a normal, good person. A slave.

Well, hell. Those days were gone now. As dead as rock n' roll and balloon pants and the age of savages. And only _one_ could be resurrected.

Prepare for the reversal back into the role they were _made_ for.

Prepare for Darwin's bloody, bawdy revenge.

Prepare for complete Enlightenment.

It's all bullshit, anyway.

He could hear the vibrating crescendo of built-up screams humming in her young throat and mouth, and his eyes were drawn to a sudden pink projectile tossed to his feet. He stared at the bleeding pinky, stamping it out as he would a used cigarette butt. "That's one hell of a bite," he commented.

"It didn't sound like I thought it would," the youkai with his soft, striking, pretty-boy face muttered, chiseled lips curved into a disappointed frown. "I couldn't hear the bone at all."

"Quit bitching. _She _felt it, didn't she?"

The young youkai, cool as an ice sculpture, tilted the face up to meet him, and he offered her a soft smile that—and he was proud to admit it—stopped hearts in passing on the street. It wasn't vanity if it was the truth. "Well?" he asked, a strange mixture of kindness, seduction, and blood. "Did you? Did you _feel_ it?"

The girl moaned hopelessly against his palm, her bleeding hand still trying to pry his away from her mouth.

"Aw. You're sweet," he told her, before sighing. "Shit. Now I almost feel bad, Brin."

"It's too early into the night for that," the one called Brin warned him, and he made eye contact with the blinking red light.

"I suppose you're right, hm? Come on, sweetie," he leered, jabbing her stomach lightly with an elbow and listening to the wind escape her lungs. He uncovered his mouth, to cup her chin, claws digging into both cheeks. A gurgling stutter hissed forth when his claws sank through, maneuvering themselves like hooks in the soft wet tissue, and her face was jerked down and straight again, until she, too, met the steady red flash. "Smile for the camera."

The claws pulled up inside her mouth, forcing a harsh, bloody-toothed grin, not unlike that of a child making a face. Brin raised an eyebrow when a low, loud moan bounced off the walls around them, a sleepy reverberation that reminded him of a mouth full of Novocain.

"She's not slow, is she?"

The blue-eyed Adonis lifted her head again to meet her eyes. "You aren't slow, are you?"

She continued to cry silently, trying not to move her jaws, least the holes in her cheeks widen.

"Nah. She's not slow. I think she's scared, is all."

"Whatever you say, Buttercup."

"Toss me the gag, hm?" A red, rubber ball the size of his fist made contact with his palm, and ignoring her protests, he stuffed it into her mouth, where with a crack and pop of bone, it was behind the teeth that barred it. The holes in her cheeks were pulled taut, seeping fleshy portals to teeth and red rubber.

He let her go, stretching his arms absently above his head as she stumbled from the new-found release, staggering against the brick wall, where she cried, and moaned, and heaved around the unmoving ball, hands frantic around her broken mouth.

Buttercup's lip curled up in disgust when the vomit that couldn't escape her lips, passed through her nose instead.

Begin procedure:

Number one— Humiliation.

_-Pride is the downfall of all things--they must realize this. They must realize that they have brought this upon their own heads.-_

He grabbed a shoulder to flip her back against the wall and left raw, bleeding canyons in his wake— Moses wasn't the only one to part the sea or witness oceans of blood. The girl—a sweet sixteen, and barely that—was divested of her clothing; there can't be secrets if you have this kind of relationship. He could see in her miserable eyes that she already knew this.

The video camera caught it all and continued to blink—a professional psychiatrist listening patiently to the world's problems.

Number two— Pain.

_-Steal anything you can. Including innocence. But remember that you aren't doing this for _you_. Nothing you do is for _you_. There _is_ no _you_ after tonight. We've made sure of that.-_

Clawed fingers rammed into her, and the flesh of her bared shoulder blades rubbed off on rough brick as she was pumped into the wall. She choked on tears and bile and agony as blood leaked steadily down her legs. And as she split open, front to back, she screamed, and screamed, and screamed into that rubber ball that never stopped teasing her gag reflexes.

'Leak' became 'pour' around his perfect, brutal fingers, and he continued to pump in, out, in, out—relentless.

"Make sure you don't enjoy that too much," the dark-skinned youkai called lightly, staring off into the street as a single car passed and a light turned green. "You heard about what happened to the last guy that did…"

_-Nothing you do is for _you_-_

"_Enjoy_ it?" he laughed, his claws raking her insides as he met Brin's piss-colored eyes. "She's _human_, you sick fuck."

His voice said 'human', but his tone said 'trash', 'garbage', 'refuse'.

Brin hid his smile, remembering a tape from the past. They'd watched his, just as others would watch theirs. "That's what the other guy was saying as he jacked off next to a dumpster."

"Well, he was a sick fuck, too."

"In any case, you might want to watch what you say, yeah?"

"Will you just shut the fuck up and watch like your supposed to?" His blood-coated fingers were once-again exposed to the frozen night air, and he wiped them clean with her hair. The girl's lips were blue—from the cold, or the gag, he didn't know, but she'd passed out from the pain.

Adhering to protocol, he woke her again.

Number three— Desolation.

_-Deliver the message. This is important, even though it may not seem that way.-_

"You should know that nothing _you_ did caused this. _You_ are being punished for the mistakes and transgressions of others like you, punished for the mistakes you'd make in the future. It is not your fault that you are so weak. It is, however, your fault that you would always stay that way. _You_ are too weak. Your _parents_ are too weak. Your _teachers_ are too weak," he recited in her ear, just as his predecessors and his predecessors' predecessors had. "Your _government_…is too weak. And _I_ believed that _I_ was weak. _You_ ate the apple and banished _me_ from the kingdom. You called me a monster—I called _myself_ a monster. You said you'd tamed me, and you forced me to hide myself behind a collar and a housecoat. And then you forgot me. _I_ even forgot me. Very well. We'll all remember now." He lifted his clenched fist before her face, and unraveled his fingers one-by-one. Her drooping, wet eyes widened as she saw, for the first time, the two-inch claws—like bloodied ice picks. "There are some things you cannot tame. There are some things you cannot forget. I am _Gabriel_, and _this_…is my message."

Number four— Death.

_-Show no mercy. Free yourselves. Be the monsters we were born to be.-_

Her torso was left on the cold alley floor, the thick, glazed topaz of smashed beer bottles digging into her skin like gravel, and her arms and legs were gathered and propped over her like a teepee, the head resting on top, a dripping cherry with exposed clumps of hair and teeth.

The red blinking stopped—I'm afraid we've run out of time. But we've made good progress. I'll pencil you in for next week's session.

Brin grabbed the camcorder from its stand and made sure everything had run smoothly. "You get ten points for creativity."

"Fuck creativity, man—I am _enlightened_," Buttercup laughed, holding up his soiled hands.

"Come on. The blood's too strong now—they'll be here, soon."

_-They are weakening already. Make it bloody. Make it bold. Make them frightened. Remind them what a _real_ monster is capable of. Let the dogs become wolves, and the housecats, panthers. The age of house-pets is over.-_

* * *

'_I feel like shit._'

The hanyou ignored it in favor of the newly-retrieved fingerprint results he'd had run through the machine. Not only had it taken for-fucking-ever to sort through all of those names, but it had turned up with no matches. Which meant that yet another of the murderers had no previous criminal record. '_Guess I'm filtering through files again._'

The thought wasn't especially appealing, so much as hopeless. Only those youkai and hanyou with prior offenses--those whose crimes hadn't been completely unforgivable--had their prints in the machine, but every single drop of youkai blood was accounted for in their system.

'_I _said_, I feel like shit._'

Stifling a sigh, and closing his eyes, he tried to keep a firm grasp on his patience. '_I heard you. But there's nothing I can do. You'll just have to deal with it for another hour or so. It'll fade like it always does._' The sun had risen more than an hour ago, the rush of his senses returning throwing off his equilibrium.

But it was _still _better than being stuck as a human.

There was a knock on the opened office door, and Hiroshi looked up as his secretary poked his head in.

"Yes?" he questioned the young intern, frowning when he recognized that nervous twitch in the boy's eye.

"They—they found another one, sir. Your father's already waiting for you in the lobby."

* * *

_Er…sorry about that, but I think I needed to stress what, exactly, has been happening for the past four months now. (There is a month between the Mimi scene and the murder scene). And no, there wasn't anything particularly special about this murder—this is pretty much how all of them have been so far. So consider yourselves warned for the rest of the story--a lot of it will be dark, bloody, and angsty. And as always, I welcome any questions.  
_

_The adrenaline shot- a shot that must be inserted into the heart in the occurrence of cardiac arrest (It's not used that often anymore). Once given, the person is supposed to wake up immediately. This scene isn't -completely- accurate, because the most immediate problem with a heroin overdose is the lungs, not the heart, and unfortunately, the adrenaline doesn't help there. So kids, don't do drugs!  
_

_Gabriel- the Archangel Gabriel, God's messenger._

_Trivia: Hiroshi's had girlfriends before--a few off and on throughout junior high and high school. Nothing serious. And he never brought any of them home before.  
_

_Next Chapter: Christmas time already?_

* * *

**_Quotes of Randomness:_**

_"Yes, reason has been a part of organized religion, ever since two nudists took dietary advice from a talking snake." --Jon Stewart_

_"Kids do have to learn that life is a humiliating charade of endless disappointment and tragedy, ultimately culminating in pain, decay, and death. My parents used to sing me to sleep with that one." --Samantha Bee  
_

_"I think we are in rats' alley / Where the dead men lost their bones." --The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot_


	9. A Holiday Gone to the Dogs

_Chapter 9: A Holiday Gone to the Dogs  
_

_

* * *

_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha_

* * *

_Can it be? Have I truly updated? D: I hope that this means my hiatus/writer's block is over. And thank you so very much for all of your patience and support AND reviews, which made me sit down and at least __**try**__ to write, even when nothing was coming to me. I've already written a fair portion of the next chapter, so hopefully I'll be able to update yet again within the next week or two._

_I think it's only fair to warn you, though. For the last two years, I've written nothing but essays, so my creativity and writing ability is rusty. It may take a little while for me to get back into the swing of things. Again—thank you!_

_

* * *

_

_Forget about our mothers and our friends._  
_We're fated to pretend..._

_-"Time to Pretend" by MGMT_

* * *

'_You know what I think?_'

Hiroshi glanced at the light overhead as it turned green. '_No_,' he thought distractedly, gently mashing down on the gas, '_but I'm sure you'll tell me anyway._'

'_I think_,' it continued, unperturbed by his tone, '_that_ _you're damn lucky that your boss is your uncle._'

'_What's that supposed to mean?_'

'_It means that if Sesshoumaru had no personal investment in you, these forced holidays he keeps giving you would be permanent._'

Hiroshi scoffed and shot a patronizing glance toward himself in the rearview mirror. '_This isn't a forced holiday. I always take time off this time of the year—you know that._'

The voice sighed irately. '_What I know is that he's all too happy to get rid of you. I don't get why you're alright with this. You're _never_ alright with this._'

'_It's Christmas time,_' was all his offered in lieu of an explanation.

'_Like that fucking means anything,_' it grunted.

As Hiroshi hit his blinker, he resolved himself against the voice, determined to ignore its baiting. As hardened as he had already become to his job, he didn't think he was quite ready to give up his illusions of the holiday spirit by examining the dismembered bodies of children. He loved this time of the year, and always had. From his experience, it changed many people temporarily for the better. Humanity in general was more generous and _humane _at Christmas. His job required that he immerse himself in death and irreparable destruction daily—he fucking _needed_ this.

But the voice, ever-vigilant, already knew what he was thinking. '_Oh, what _bullshit_! You need to wake up, Hiro, and step into the real world. Death doesn't stop for you or for the holidays. Fuck, the suicide rates _double_ this time of the year. How's that for the holiday spirit?_'

'_You _do_ realize that is one of the most grossly exaggerated statistics in circulation, of course._'

'_Is it?_' it asked in mock surprise. '_A lot of people die this time of year. You _know_ that._'

Hiroshi let his mind blank, forcing the voice from his head, and trusting instinct and habit to lead him to his destination. He knew he shouldn't let it bother him—he had, after all, come to work today expecting Sesshoumaru to bring up the topic of a brief holiday.

His mother had a hand in it, he was willing to bet a month's salary on it. She was entirely too predictable. And even though she undoubtedly always meant well, it irritated him, her interference. On some level, it annoyed him even now, but he pushed the feeling away again and tried to focus on the positives of the situation.

Maybe Rei was right. Maybe he was getting too wrapped up in this case—understandably so, he still believed, but maybe his work was starting to be affected by his inability to catch a break. Soon he would start making mistakes—crucial mistakes—if he didn't take a step back and readjust his way of seeing, which was admittedly becoming more and more careless as he grew more and more impatient.

He turned the music up and blanked his mind as an unwelcome image of the latest victim pieced itself together behind his eyes, where he couldn't reach or remove it. He remembered her wide-eyed expression, skin pulled tight because of a huge gag that had been forced into her small mouth, breaking it. She was far too young to be that terrified. She was far too young to deserve a death that brutal.

'_I_ _have to say_,' the voice drawled after using the image to claw its way back into his awareness,_ 'at least these assholes seem to know what they want and are taking an active approach to making it happen._'

He felt horror and disgust form as bile in the back of his throat. '_You cannot be serious…_' Then hot anger at its light tone.

'_I'm just saying. You could learn a thing or two from them. Use it against them. Scare them. That's what they're trying to do, you know. Send a message of fear_.'

And he was so, so relieved that it had no real power—no real way of inflicting its sickness on the rest of the world.

It laughed. '_You really think I'm that horrible?_' Hiroshi could feel a tension growing when he tried to blank his mind again. It was surprised, offended, angry. '_You're such a fucking hypocrite,_' it accused before voluntarily closing itself off.

A few tense minutes had passed before he decided that he wasn't going to worry about this all night. He was going to go out with his friends and enjoy the normalcy it would provide. The first light drops of rain began to sporadically hit his windshield, and he wondered how much of a nuisance it would be later tonight. Julia would be none too happy if they had to cancel…

Apparently, Jackson always took her to see the lights in a park the weekend before Christmas, but—thanks to the injury of a coworker—Jackson was stuck with overtime at the warehouse in which he worked. She was going to be disappointed when he told her—he'd said—inconsolable, even. And though Hiroshi already knew that the brother and sister shared a tendency for dramatics and suspected Jackson of cultivating his presently, he volunteered himself and Miroku to take her in his place.

After that, he and Jackson seemed to have a mutual and fond respect for each other, and the red-headed man clasped the hanyou's shoulder, giving it a brief appreciative shake. "_I was hoping you'd say that._"

Had there really ever been any other alternative?

The rain had turned into a light sleeting by the time he reached the rundown apartment complex that, while now familiar, still made him uneasy. He'd come here once before meeting Julia, investigating the death of a young youkai—an innocent caught in the crossfire of a human drug deal. The place reminded him that youkai weren't the only ones you should fear. Of course, Julia would live here…

Trying to stifle a long sigh, he climbed out of his jeep and locked it over his shoulder with a beep. He could smell the rank stench of urine before he even reached the open stairs, white paint peeling off the rails edged with rust. A junkie pressed against the concrete wall sat rocking and muttering to himself, mindless of the cold, and Hiroshi eyed him with barely concealed suspicion and pity as he made his way to the second floor. The cement hallways were still damp from the windblown rain, and the scent of old cat piss unfurled itself from behind the first door he passed.

This place was torture on his sensitive nose, he remembered when—as he approached Julia's apartment—the door across from hers burst open with laughter, and the hated sweet and rank stench of pot assaulted him in a sudden pressurized _whoof_. He immediately fell into a sneezing fit, as he banged on Julia's door, loathing the two men that were now starting to walk away. One called out a "Bless you" over his shoulder, and Hiroshi leveled a curt red-rimmed look at him.

He didn't miss the voice's suspicious silence.

Julia couldn't open the door fast enough for his taste. "Are you okay?" she asked, wide-eyed, stepping aside to allow him access and shutting the door behind him. "With all your banging, I thought you were being murdered or something. …Are you _crying_?" she asked suddenly in appalled surprise.

He sourly pinned his watering eyes on her before sneezing again. "No," he muttered, rubbing his itchy nose. "How can you stand that _smell_?"

She looked bemused and concerned. "_What_ smell?" Hiroshi prevented her from sticking her head out into the hallway by a firmly placed hand against the door.

"Don't worry about it." He looked utterly miserable as he sneezed yet again, head snapping forward and back, and she had to struggle to stifle her giggle.

"You poor thing. Hold on, I have some allergy medicine. You're more than welcome to it." She was already rifling through her cabinets for a box of wrapped pills.

"No, I don't—"

"It's totally safe," she interrupted and assured him as she popped a pill out of its foil casing. "Over the counter, and all that." She held it out for him to take, offering him a convincing smile.

"Julia, I'm fine," he promised. "Just give me a couple of minutes, and it will be out of my system."

Her grin fell. "You don't look fine," she told him dubiously. "And if you don't take the pill, and I don't get to see the Christmas lights because you're off somewhere sneezing, I'm going to cry."

The look he shot her clearly said I-know-what-you're-doing-and-god-dammit-it's-working. With a sigh, he pinched the tiny blue pill from her outstretched palm, and she grinned, happy and victorious.

"I'll get you some water."

He lifted himself onto her countertop, and watched her rifle through a cabinet for a mug. "Have I told you before that I really think you should consider finding another…_safer_ apartment building?"

She snorted as she pressed the mug against the water dispenser installed in her refrigerator. "Only once or twice or _every_ _time_ you've come here over the last couple of months."

"Clearly my point isn't hitting home," he drawled, accepting the mug and admiring its amusing smooshed pig shape before tilting his head back and downing the medicine.

She shot him a wry look over her shoulder, but smirked, nonetheless before she pointedly dedicated herself to picking the stray fuzz stuck to her thermal top. "Oh, let me go ahead and pack up all my worldly possessions and leave my home because the great Hiroshi thinks I should. …This place is _cheap_. And it's cozy on the inside, don't you think?"

He couldn't deny her that. As dreary and shady as the outside of the apartment was with its peeling paint and tarnished gold numbers, the insider of her apartment had been transformed into the embodiment of her personality—everything was bright; everything was unique. The furniture was old, and she seemed to enjoy transforming each piece into a work of art. Shelves with decoupage magazine clippings held both books and countless knick-knacks. And every time he visited, something else had been rearranged, transformed, so that the apartment became as alive and real as she was.

He wondered briefly if his own sterile home bothered her at all. Other than a few family photos, everything in his house served a purpose, which suited him. It was sleek and efficient. And he wasn't as sentimental as his mother, so he lost no sleep over its lack of personality.

He sighed, but didn't press the subject any longer—his criticism of her apartment's location tended to wear on her. Instead, he lead the conversation to one that he was positive wouldn't lead to irritation. "Miroku's going to meet us at the park in an hour. So we should probably leave soon—traffic's pretty bad."

All her attention in the fuzzies dissipated immediately, and she was so happy, she seemed to be vibrating. It was amazing, really, the things that could amuse and please her. "I'm ready—I even made hot _chocolate_!"

"You made hot chocolate?" His eyebrows shot up in surprise before furrowing in concern. "Is it safe?"

Releasing a scandalized cry, she giggled, nonetheless. "I know how to heat water in a microwave, you jerk!" The raising of an eyebrow betrayed his mock-skepticism, and she sniffed. "Fine. _You_ don't get any—Miroku and I will have to split yours."

"What did he ever do to you?" he teased. She was as much fun to tease as Miroku and Rei, and she could usually give as good as she got. Besides, she had an easy laugh, which he found endearing.

She ignored him and tried to hide her smile. "What a shame. I even picked out a thermos especially for you, and everything."

His ears perked, and he slid off the countertop. "Really? Did you match it with my extremely attractive personality?"

She snorted. "Good one, _Kannon_. But I'm afraid you'll never find out, now… You know, I haven't seen Miroku all week?"

She seemed offended, and he chuckled. "Neither have I. He's working on creating his own game, so he's been pretty busy, I suppose."

"He never tells me these things… Maybe I shouldn't give him any hot chocolate either."

"That'll teach him."

"Jerk."

"Does he get his own special thermos, too?"

"No, you're just special—of _course_ he gets his own thermos. I put painstaking efforts into finding them… You shouldn't make fun of me for it."

He offered her a genuine smile when he noticed her frown. "I think it was very sweet of you. The same with the hot chocolate, which I'm sure will be the best microwaved hot chocolate I've ever consumed."

He got another giggle out of her. "Now you're just patronizing me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

A swift hand tucked black curls behind an ear, and she opened the microwave and sent him a guilty glance. "I wouldn't really deny you your hot chocolate, you know."

"I know, Jules." And when she placed the thermos in his hands, his voice stirred for the first time since he left his car. "Black?"

'_Like your soooooul,_' it moaned all too happily, testing his mood. '_But seriously… Interesting choice. Uncanny, really.'_

Soft blue studied him carefully, picking up on his surprise as he stared at the sleek ebony container in his hands. "I'm not calling you evil or anything. It just seemed to fit…"

"I'm not offended," he promised her quickly, "I like black." And he wasn't lying. It was his color, just as red was his father's—he just didn't think she knew that… "Most people probably would have looked at me and picked silver. Nice deviation."

"Silver is boring. …When it's not hair," she amended at his smirk and raised brow. "Black is mysterious—the unknown."

"You think I'm mysterious?"

She wasn't baited by the amusement in his voice, the light of laughter in his eyes, and was completely serious, if not sad, when she said, "Oh, Hiroshi… I _know_ you are."

The laughter drained out of his features, and he instantly felt uncomfortable, as though she was prying her way into a part of himself that he wasn't yet willing to share with her. He remembered that day she'd spoken with Kimiko by the pond, and how strained things were between them over the next few days. How careful and polite he'd been, and how she'd ended up crying in frustration over the formality between them...

He cleared his throat, and she started, an easy grin lighting her face as she started toward him and past him. "Besides," she allowed, picking at the black fleece he was wearing. "It looks good on you. Grab Miroku's hot chocolate, will you? I just need to throw a coat on."

His discomfort was completely forgotten when she returned, and he struggled not to snicker at her. It turns out that her 'coat' was actually a thick, white down-feather ski jacket which she had difficulty zipping up over her thickest and scratchiest wool sweater. A bright red scarf was bundled around her neck and chin and tucked down the front of the jacket, and her curls were regrettably flattened beneath a white ski cap with a huge red pom-pom on top. What completed the picture was her inability to completely relax her arms by her side—the thick jacket and sweater made it impossible. He was reminded of Ralphie's brother in "A Christmas Story," albeit, her arms jutted out only a fraction of what his had.

She seemed completely unaware of his good humor until—as he watched her slip on her red and white striped gloves—he asked, "As adorable as you may look, don't you think you'll be a bit hot in all of that?"

She blushed at the compliment, but otherwise ignored it, holding out her gloved hand to examine it. "I get cold easily. And you're going to wish you'd come as prepared as me once that wimpy fleece fails to keep you warm."

"It's like…fifty degrees outside."

"Exactly."

He rolled her eyes at her satisfaction, and guided her towards the door with a hand at the small of her back and thermoses in tow. "Alright, you lightweight, let's move out so Miroku won't be waiting on us."

O-O-O-O-O-O

Luckily for them, the rain had eased and then stopped completely before they even arrived, but it lent an absolutely mesmerizing feel to the park. The trees were carefully wrapped with tiny lights, which twinkled off the remaining raindrops as twilight quickly darkened and night began to fall around them. They walked side-by-side, watching the lights and talking quietly, keeping an eye open for their missing companion.

She clasped her hands together around her thermos, bounced ahead of him, and started walking backwards before him. "So…what did you get me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Her nose and cheeks were pink with cold, and she pursed her lips in mock-irritation. "For _Christmas_, of course!"

He was wearing his usual mask of carefully contained, quiet amusement, reaching out swiftly to straighten her when she stumbled and nearly toppled backwards. "Was I supposed to get you something?"

"I'll bet _Miroku_ got me something," she teased with a wink at the kitsune, who seemed to suddenly appear from nowhere in particular. "_He's_ a good friend."

"Um…" the pink-faced kitsune allowed before the young woman was suddenly distracted by his clothing—or lack of. "Sorry I'm late."

"Mi_ro_ku!" She plucked at his thin plaid button-up, which hung loose on him, in horror. "Where is your _jacket_? You're going to catch _frost_bite!"

He exchanged a look with his cousin, who was grinning boldly at him, before he sighed. Though Miroku was all too familiar with Julia's dramatic approaches, he was still unsure of how to handle them. "It's like fifty degrees outside," he mumbled.

She responded in exasperation to his declaration as she did Hiroshi's. "Ex_act_ly—what is with your family? You and Hiro act like you're space heaters. But at least _he_ had enough sense to wear a _fleece_."

"Jeez, Miroku, what were you thinking?" Hiroshi couldn't help himself, and his cousin shot him a withering look. He was still grinning unrepentantly.

Thrusting the green thermos into his hands, Julia commanded, "Drink this. It will warm you up." He had no choice but to obey.

O-O-O-O-O-O

"That sly son of a bitch," Hiroshi murmured, chuckling in amazement as he watched a man pretend to be beyond relieved when he stumbled upon Julia entertaining herself with the ugliest old dog he'd ever seen. "He's using that stray to pick up Julia…"

The man—broad-shouldered and tall—began to thank her profusely for finding his beloved pet and, in his very great relief, was even so bold as to pull her into full body hug. Hiroshi snorted when she awkwardly patted his back before peeling herself away from him.

Miroku looked vaguely uncomfortable, not used to having girl friends and not sure what he should be doing or feeling in these sort of situations. "Should we…you know, do something?"

The bright gold of his eyes darkened suspiciously as he scrutinized the man quietly before he shook his head. "Nah. He seems to be harmless. Let her enjoy the dog."

After a few minutes of polite chatter, in which she seemed to be more interested in the dog than in the man, he volunteered to give her his number, so that she could call him next time she wanted to come play with the dog.

"Oh…" she said, surprised, but accepted the slip of paper once he'd finished scribbling his number across it. "Well…thank you," she told him, clearly uncomfortable now, and Hiroshi stepped in.

"Jules, are you about ready to go grab some dinner?"

She tossed him a grateful smile over her shoulder, and nodded before turning back to the now-less-than-thrilled man who was clearly sizing up the 'competition.' "Well, I've got to go, but it was nice meeting you." She kneeled in front of the dog and scratched the fur around his neck with both hands, gushing, "And it was _really_ nice meeting you, my buddy!" She laughed when he walked in place a bit, licking at the air before her chin fell victim to his foul-smelling slobber. She didn't seem to care, and was delighted, nonetheless.

And with that, she stood up, brushed herself off, and ran to loop her arms through Hiroshi's and Miroku's as they headed for the park exit. The slip of paper was promptly crumpled and dropped into the first trashcan they passed.

"He was such a bad liar," she defended when Hiroshi sent her a questioning look. "I'm well aware that that wasn't his dog."

* * *

Christmas Eve arrived and found the young hanyou garbed in his battle leathers of black dragon hide—a gift from his proud parents once he graduated high school with honors. The suit was strong enough to deter a blade and light and loose enough to move around in without too much restriction on his part. They were every bit as effective as his father's fire-rat furs, though—he was pleased to admit—they looked much sleeker, much more contemporary, and just much more, to quote Kannon, "bad-ass." A smoky-gray obi with a leather thong was fastened around his waist, suspending an ebony sword sheath. Hiroshi thumbed the hilt of Gintsume, revealing a hint of gleaming silver before swiftly drawing the blade for the first time in over a month—just in time to intercept his father's enormous fang of a blade from cleaving him in two.

The beautiful and sleek blade flared with its own energy, a long thin spike of steel, shifting from white-silver to black as it moved in and caught the sunlight. It was every bit as capable and durable as the much larger and heavier Tessaiga.

As the sparks flew and energy crackled, Gintsume strummed in his hands, both wary and pleased to be turned against its brother blade. "You gotta do better than that, pup," his father gloated, dropping suddenly to kick Hiroshi's legs out from under him, and watching as his oldest son flipped into a back handspring and landing deftly on both feet, sword at the ready.

With a yell that left his father chuckling and his brother unable to take him seriously, Kannon launched himself at Hiroshi in a manner that Kagome recognized as similar to Inuyasha's earliest days with her. Her husband had since acquired some of the tact that Sesshoumaru and Hiroshi had always seemed to possess on the battlefield, but she loved her youngest son for his lack of finesse.

At least Hiroshi wasn't completely humiliating him and worked to make the battle with the brash young hanyou seem convincing. But ultimately his ego was too great to give in completely and allow his brother to defeat him, and each time Kannon was forced to submit, the irritated pup attributed his losses to unfair advantages before demanding a 'do-over,' which Hiroshi was all too happy to oblige.

Kimiko came skipping into the clearing, playfully whirling the Hiraikotsu over-head, and Inuyasha was forced to dig deep grooves into the earth in his attempt to block the bone-boomerang, which sent him sliding back. Hiroshi paused in his efforts with Kannon to watch his terrifying slip of a sister force their father to lose ground. Inuyasha looked ecstatic, proudly claiming that she handled the fine weapon with even more expertise and precision than the Slayer of legend had.

It was something that Mimi never tired of hearing.

It was twilight before Kagome's announcement of dinner brought a satisfied end to their traditional Christmas Eve free-for-all, and they all headed inside to change out of their battle-wear and wash up.

Sneaking up behind her, Inuyasha wrapped his arms around his mate and stooped to rest his chin on her shoulder, his favorite _innocent_ position. "Smells good, wench." He opened his mouth to accept a piece of glazed chicken that she offered him, catching her fingers with his tongue. "Though I think I would rather eat ramen and have you play outside with me and Tessaiga. …I would have taken it easy on you."

"That sword is old news, Inuyasha," she teased, turning her head and peeking up at him through a fringe of lashes. "Unless, of course, you've taught it some new tricks…?" She laughed loudly at the withering look he shot her before his lips quirked in an involuntary smirk.

"You couldn't handle the new tricks," he parried, and Kimiko giggled as she walked into the room.

"That's _gross_, Papa!"

"Exactly. _Gross_, Inuysha."

"Alright, wench. I'll remember this tonight," he warned, a dangerously gleeful gleam in his eye, and she twisted in his arms and stood on her tiptoes to kiss his chin.

"I'm counting on that, dog-boy."

"My Christmas will be ruined if I hear you two in the middle of the night," Kannon warned with no real censure as he followed his twin into the kitchen and grabbed an empty plate. "Looks good, Mama."

"Thanks, sweetie." She could hear Hiroshi jogging down the stairs, and before long the entire family was moving around the kitchen, fixing their plates with a relaxed sense of satisfaction.

"I'm starving," Kannon announced with a happy sigh as he carried his heaping serving to the table. "I nearly _had_ your ass out there, Hiro."

"You didn't do half-bad," his brother admitted, "though you'd do a lot better if you didn't announce each attack with a bellow. Stealth…not your forte."

"Keh!"

He had just managed to sit down, and was about to content himself with devouring the dinner before him when his cell rang—a shrill tune that grated on his nerves. He sent an apologetic look to his mother, before he snuck a bite and answered it. "Takenawa," he answered, swallowing the first bite of food. He batted his brother away when the nosy deviant nearly fell out of his seat, straining to read the name that appeared on the back of the phone.

"_Are you, um, busy?_"

Hiroshi frowned at the strain in Julia's voice. "Nothing that can't wait," he assured her, excusing himself from the table. He ignored his parents' questioning looks. "What's wrong?" A constant stream of muffled yelling somewhere in her background worried him.

There was a choked noise on the other end that caused his eyebrows to shoot up and his fingers to tingle with fear. It was a while before she said anything, though he could hear her trying to compose herself. "Julia?"

"_Can you come get me? Please?"_

He had already grabbed his keys and was half-way out the door before she could bring herself to ask. "I'm on my way," he assured her, and it didn't take long before his jeep was winding down the dirt road and away from his parents' house.

"_I'm at Dad's—_"

"I know where it is. I'll be there in fifteen." He frowned when he heard glass shatter, and she hung up after a quick "_I've got to go._"

'_What the fuck is _that_ about? She's not even at her shit apartment…_'

'_Jackson's with her,_' he reminded himself, '_so I'm sure she's fine. It's probably just an argument…_'

And when he finally arrived at the long string of identical row houses and parked a few yards before the Braden house, he saw her tear through the door, an older man hot on her heels.

'_Oh, __**fuck**__ no,_' he heard the voice spit out, indignation sweeping through him when the man grabbed her shoulder, and she was forced to whirl around on him. At that moment, however, she seemed completely able to defend herself, and the cream pea coat and dark jeans did amazingly nothing to soften the absolute and dangerous fury that cast wilderness upon her face. "No," she was shouting, her hands clenched into bloodless balls at her sides as she leaned forward in her vehemence. "I don't want to _hear_ it! How could bring this up _today_ of all days? And in _front_ of her? You are the most _selfish_ and _heartless_ man I've _ever_ had the misfortune to know in my entire _life_!"

Hiroshi agreed with his voice's immediate and complete dislike of the stocky man, whose ginger hair was peppered with white around the edges, and he warily exited his jeep as a third party member—a very heated Jackson—entered the fray, positioning himself beside his sister and sticking a pointed finger only an inch away from his father's face, as he, too, began yelling.

"You don't even have a job!" he was shouting, "It's not like you have anything else to do other than provide her company and help her out from time-to-time! You _owe_ her that-!" He cut himself off when the hanyou cleared his throat at the bottom of the steps, and three pairs of blue eyes flew to him. Julia nearly slumped in relief.

"Who are you?" the older man asked gruffly, suspiciously, and the hanyou quickly climbed the stairs, stationing himself in front of Julia as he held out a hand and managed a stiff, polite smile.

"Hiroshi Takenawa—I'm a friend of Julia's. And you must be Charlie…"

'_You're actually going to shake that bastard's hand?_'

'_No need to be rude. He's still her father. But I'll get my point across,_' he promised as naturally watery blue eyes studied him up and down before staring at his extended hand, which he finally and begrudgingly took.

"Mr. Braden," he corrected with a slow drawl, still wary. Charlie was slightly overweight, a paunch at his stomach due to a love of alcohol and hard liquors, apparently, which he could smell on his breath even now.

Ignoring the last comment, Hiroshi released his hand and turned to greet Jackson with a wry smile. "Is everything okay here?"

The red-head remembered his fury and sent a fierce glare at his father before answering. "Yes. Just having some friendly words with this piece of—"

Charlie's jaw clamped shut before he narrowed his gaze and snapped at the man, "I don't see how that's any of his business, Jackson. Mind telling me what you're doing here, …Hiroshi, was it?"

"That's right. I'm here to pick Julia up."

The girl tugged at his elbow. "Let's just go," she whispered urgently, and the hanyou nodded his content. "Thanks…for a _lovely_ evening," she told them stiffly, leaning into Hiroshi when he wrapped an arm across her back to guide her down the stairs.

All pretenses of good-humor vanished from Hiro's face as his eyes drifted from one to the other. "Well, Merry Christmas."

They had reached the sidewalk below when Hiroshi heard a new pair of light feet behind him and glanced back over his shoulder, only to freeze in his tracks. Realization shot through him, and he suddenly understood everything. "Oh…" he murmured, a bit surprised. Julia turned to see what he was looking at, and he felt her stiffen beneath his arm. A woman, dressed in nothing but a long blue nightgown, was standing in the open doorway, and Hiroshi suddenly knew what Julia would look like in twenty years, had she kept her blonde hair. The only difference was the green eyes, which were directed at him, an absent look as she searched her memories to match him with an identity and understandably coming up short. He could tell it frustrated her when she couldn't recognize him, but she recovered by gazing down at her daughter, and a kind but vague smile lit her face. "Julia, you forgot your bookbag, you silly thing!" she chided, and her daughter pulled away from the hanyou and forced a sad smile as she began to climb the steps again.

"Hiroshi, wait in the jeep for me—I'll be right out," she muttered, before acknowledging her mother's statement: "Of course… Thank you for reminding me, Mom."

The woman looked pleased with herself. "You'd forget your head if it wasn't attached to your shoulders. Come on, and I'll make you a sandwich to take with you."

Julia pushed past her father and brother, grabbing and squeezing her mother's hand. "That's okay, Mom, I'm not hungry. Let's get you inside. It's freezing out here—where are your socks?" Her voice drifted off as she led her mother away and up the stairs to her parents' bedroom. With a final nod to Jackson, he covered the distance to his jeep and climbed in. Which seemed to be the cue for the father and son to start arguing again.

They were in each other's faces, screaming—he could see the spittle flying from where he sat.

"_Now_ look at what you've done, you miserable bastard!"

And so on.

Hiroshi sighed, but didn't intervene—this was none of his business. But he did frown when Julia finally came back to the doorway alone, and seeing the two men fighting, burst into furious action. His frown morphed into an infuriated snarl at what happened next.

"Oh, for the love of—_Stop_ it!" she had cried out, suddenly, cutting between them, and using her own small body to try to pry them apart. "Just stop—"

"Not _now_, goddammit!" Her father forcefully batted her out of their way with a thick arm as he rounded on Jackson, who stopped in his tracks, stunned as he watched Julia collide with the sharp corner of the brick wall. Her head snapped back against the unyielding building, and light burst in front of her eyes upon contact.

"Jules!" Her brother looped an arm under the crook of her arm to keep her from losing her balance in her own wide-eyed shock, and turning to his surprised and abashed father, he snarled, "What the _fuck_, Charlie?"

"I didn't mean—"

But then they heard a car door slam down below, and Jackson suppressed a shiver at the fury burning behind golden eyes—a fury he didn't think the pleasant Hiroshi was capable of.

"_Oi_!" He swiftly covered the distance between his jeep and the steps leading to their house, and shoved his way past Charlie, ignoring the satisfaction of the voice at his lack of politeness and regard for the human that was sent stumbling to regain his balance.

He stopped in front of Julia, ducking to meet her gaze before he motioned for her to tip her chin down so that he had easy access to the crown of her head. He was both bothered and relieved by what he saw—a bleeding gash that was a lot better than it could have been. "It's shallow enough, so no need for stitches. You're lucky," he told her, sending a positively chilling look toward the two abashed men. He grabbed her hand carefully. "Come on, Julia. We'll get you a couple of Tylenol and get you to bed." As he began to lead her gently down the stairs, he called out over his shoulder, voice low. "Because it's Christmas Eve, I'm going to be generous and assume that this was an accident—that it's never happened before and won't ever happen again. If I ever find out that you _have_ struck her again, I'll be back—and much less forgiving."

"Hiro…don't," she muttered, cheeks still stained red with humiliation from the scene. "I just want to go."

"All right. We'll go," he told her, voice quiet and careful as he silently examined her.

They were already at the bottom of the steps when Hiroshi heard Charlie begin to hurriedly make his way down. "Julia! Wait!"

She hurried her step, and didn't bother to look back. "No. Leave me alone."

But when the man insisted on pursuing her, Hiroshi handed her the keys and turned to meet him as she proceeded to lock herself in his jeep.

"Leave her alone, Charlie," he began firmly, tiredly. The man bristled instantly and rounded on him—Hiroshi saw Jackson move to intervene out of the corner of his eye, but stayed him with a raised hand.

Splotchy patches of red began to surface over his the eldest Braden's Irish complexion, and his ever-watering eyes bulged with some great anger. He shoved at the hanyou's shoulder. "Who the fuck do you think you are, son?"

"I'm not your son," he gritted out before soft music filled his head, and he managed to calm himself down. "I know you didn't mean to hurt her," he allowed at last, voice soft and trying to placate the man's fury, least they come to blows right in front of the girl's eyes. "For your sake, I hope not, at least. But she doesn't want to talk to you right now, which mean _I_ won't let you talk to her right now. The best thing you can do is go inside, sober up, and think about how you're going to make this up to her whenever she _is_ willing to see you again." He paused then, and the man seemed to sag as all of his anger drained away, and guilt was all that remained. "I'm sorry we had to meet under these circumstances."

Charlie never said a word, he just turned on his heel and slowly drifted back up the stairs, past a stunned Jackson, and into the house, closing the door behind him.

With a sigh, he covered the rest of the distance to the jeep, and closed the door behind him. "Are you okay, Jules?" he asked when she wouldn't meet his eye, placing a careful hand on her shoulder. His frown became worried when she seemed to be vibrating with fury.

It was definitely the wrong time for her brother to rap his knuckles against his window, which he—of course—did. Hiroshi's gut told him he was inviting trouble by rolling down the window, but he tried his best to ignore it, and the man stooped to glance across at Julia. "How's she doing?" he asked, and she exploded.

"How do you _think_, you insensitive _ass_!"

He looked confused and surprised at her fury towards him. "Whoa, Jules, what did _I_ do?"

Hiroshi closed his eyes in resignation when she opened his glove compartment and rifled through it—presumably to find something heavy enough to act as a missile. Her movements were forceful and jerky. "You couldn't make it through a _single_ damn dinner without jumping down each other's throats, could you," she complained sharply, unable to find anything satisfying in the glove compartment and settling for the Jeep's manual, which she presently flew, pages flapping awkwardly until it made contact with Hiro's jaw—which was _not_ her designated target.

He ignored her attempts to retrieve the manual and tossed an apologetic glance at the stunned Jackson as he held the book out of her reach.

"Give it here!" she commanded, incensed as she tried to lean across him to grab it from his extended arm.

"It's the manual to my car, Julia. Not a weapon."

"Like you need it!"

"Like _you_ do?"

With a scream of frustration, she slammed herself back into her seat, folded her arms tightly across her chest, and decided to ignored both of them.

"I'll get her fixed up and get her to bed," he promised the now aggravated man outside his window.

"You're a good man, Hiroshi…"

The hanyou's smile was dry and wistful. "That's what they tell me." With a nod goodbye, he rolled up the window, and pulled out of the parking spot.

"Are you ignoring me?" he asked after two minutes of silence. And when he didn't get a response, he tried again, "I'm sorry I wouldn't let you beat your brother with my manual."

"I don't want to talk about it," Julia told him briskly, and he nodded once in understanding as she went back to ignoring him.

For five minutes, they drove in silence and darkness, and a cloud of depression stifled all within the car.

'_She's upset…_'

Surprised by the complete agitation of the voice, a discomfort which bordered on misery, he was unable to make a snarky remark. '_Yeah_.' He glanced at the silent woman, twisted into the passenger window to isolate herself from him. As she stared at the passing traffic, he couldn't tell if she was seething or hurting—probably both.

'_Maybe you should…shit, I'm no good with this stuff… Let her spend Christmas with 'Gome and the Old Man?_'

Hiroshi's eyes widened in shock that he was unable to hide. It was actually being sensitive… Suspicion instantly set upon him. '…_What are you up to?_'

'_Despite your lack of faith, __**asshole**__,_' it shot back bitterly, '_I'm not out to ruin your good name with sadism. Fuck. Who wants to spend Christmas alone? She probably cares about that shit…_'

'_Fine…_' he conceded sullenly, still a bit suspicious. '_That's pretty decent of you, actually._'

It scoffed.

"What are your plans for tomorrow?"

Brow furrowed miserably, she looked to see if he was making a deliberately cruel joke or just asking a stupid question—neither of which suited him. He looked serious enough, she decided, so she wouldn't be bitchy about it. She offered a helpless shrug before she went back to looking absently out the window, through her own reflection.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Hiroshi watched her hands make anxious knots with the hem of her long sweater. She looked pitiful… "Come with me to my uncle's house tomorrow." Her hands had frozen, he noticed, but she didn't look at him. He continued, "Miroku, Kannon, and Mimi will be there, of course. And the food will be fantastic…"

"I can't spend Christmas morning with your family, Hiroshi. I'm sure they want to spend time with _their_ family." Her tone, he noted, carried a note of hopefulness, and he smiled at the road ahead, already confident that he would succeed.

"You do realize that you've eaten Sunday brunch with my family almost every week since we've met, right? I think it's fair to say that you've managed to become a pretty consistent fixture within my family."

She twisted her body straight again, watching the road before her as he drove, her body language more receptive, and he knew she would be okay soon enough. "But still…"

"Jules, you'd be doing me a favor. They'll be on their best behavior if you come, and that's very tempting—In fact, I think I would have to drag you along, regardless of your answer," he teased, and she smiled—a true smile—before she turned her attention back to the window at her side.

"Okay. If you're sure."

"I'm more than sure—determined, now."

"Can we listen to the Cat Concerto song?"

His sigh was relieved, and he let out a short laugh, and flipped on his CD player. Before long the Hungarian Rhapsody had managed to permeate the miserable mood, which—in turn—dissipated.

"We're going to swing by your house for an overnight bag. You mind staying at my place?"

She shook her head, which throbbed as a reminder. "As long as you keep your hands to yourself." She allowed another small smile when his laughter reached her ears again.

"I'll try to behave, but can make no promises," he joked, and she lightly punched his arm, which he pretended to nurse. "At least I deserved it this time. And it didn't cost me more pages in my guidebook."

She hit him again.

O-O-O-O-O-O

Julia paused before she turned the key to unlock her door and turned to look up at him. He was glaring at the door across from her, and didn't seem to notice her nervousness. "Hiroshi—" she began.

"—Wish you'd just move from this hellhole," she thought she heard him grumble under his breath, and decidedly ignored him, as always.

"_Hiro_shi." Dark amber snapped back to her, and he smiled politely, showing her that she had his full attention. "Before we go in, I think it's only fair to warn you that, um, your Christmas present is in here… Somewhere… Just try to keep an open mind?"

'_Holy shit, Hiro, she got you a __**dog**__…_'

'…_What? No, she didn't…_' But a sinking feeling pooled in his heavy stomach like lead, and he knew what he was about to discover before his nose even began tracking it through the heavy metal door. Sure enough, he could smell the dog urine, and the baby-powder smell of the puppy pads she must have laid out. '_Oh god._' He looked horrified as she smiled sheepishly and turned her charm up. She was already batting her lashes heavily and quickly.

The voice chuckled. '_She's a manipulative little bitch, I'll give her that,_' it announced with something akin to pride.

Hiroshi ignored it and heard the dog snuffling at the door crack. "It's a dog, isn't it?" he asked, his voice betraying no emotion. She gasped at his prediction before unlocking and opening the door with an ironic smile.

"Well, don't get _too_ excited…"

"This is a pretty big decision you just made for me."

She grimaced at the carefully veiled irritation in his tone, and felt for the lightswitch on the wall. "I know, and I'm sorry—but he was going to be put to sleep, and he's just a _puppy_…"

Hiroshi sighed, running a clawed hand through loose silken hair. "Julia…" The puppy came bounding from behind the door, sniffing happily at his shoes and jeans, circling him like a satellite.

"Well, hey there, buddy! …I'll buy his dog food, even," she volunteered, hopeful as she turned her attention back to her friend and clasped her hands together in front of her. "And he doesn't need to be an inside dog—he can stay outside. But I can't keep him in my apartment. He'll be _miser_able!"

Hiroshi shut the door and knelt to examine the puppy, which—he could tell—would be huge when it reached its prime. He had no doubt that it had some Great Dane in its blood. It danced around him in dark gray, loose jowls swaying as the pup pawed at the air and bounced from spot to spot. It was a 'he', and the poor thing was clearly beyond excited to have company. And dammit if Julia's puppy-dog eyes weren't even more convincing than the actual dog's. And she'd had such a bad night already…

'_What could it hurt?_' he asked himself.

'_What, indeed… She's got you whipped, you know._'

'_It certainly does seem that way…_'

'_Rei_ _can't ever know about this._'

'_No. He can't._' He was careful to keep his tone neutral when he asked if she'd go ahead and pack the puppy pads, too, and with a squeal of excitement, she launched herself at his neck, bestowing him with a brief hug before she dashed off to pack a bag.

Within a minute she stuck her head out of her bedroom, catching his attention. "By the way, I sleep in my panties. Is that going to be a problem?"

He was so taken aback by her seriousness that he didn't know how to respond, but he was fairly certain that he was actually blushing. "Uh…no?"

A childish scowl marred his face when she burst into laughter, retreating back into her room with a murmured "adorable _and_ gullible."

O-O-O-O-O-O

A lamp was dragged off the side-table by its cord, and Hiroshi bit back a sharp sigh when he heard the guilty and frantic clicking of claws sliding on the wooden floor as the little beast struggled to put distance between himself and his mess.

"I really appreciate this—everything you've done for me tonight," Julia told him for the fifteenth time since they'd arrived at his place. She made to look over her shoulder at him, but his fingers gently, and firmly, held her face.

"You're welcome—again. Try not to move for a second," he commanded, as he dabbed at the dried blood with a cool damp rag. It had matted some of her hair, so he'd be stuck smelling it until she showered in the morning. The cut was about two inches long where her head had bounced off the sharp corner of a brick— The whole incident just made him angry if he thought about it, so he tried to work mechanically, efficiently, but without thought. "Will you pass me the ointment, please?"

She slapped the tube back in his waiting palm, and he finished dressing the wound, wiping the leftover ointment off his fingers with a clean part of the rag. "Do you still have a headache?" He grabbed the fallen lamp and set it back in its original position.

She shook her head. "I feel better already, just being away from there."

"It was pretty intense," he edged, but didn't press upon the subject when she failed to respond. "You're probably exhausted, hm? I'll sleep on the sofa," he volunteered and began to take the cushions off in order to unfold the bed, waiting for the bemused girl to move off the final cushion. "You can sleep in my room."

She looked nervous as she began fidgeting with her hem again, and he frowned. "Actually, can we just…watch TV in here for a little while?" She began to busy herself by pulling her forgotten shoes out of the dog's reach.

It wasn't even ten o'clock yet, he noted. "Of course."

He quickly made the sleeper-sofa, fitting it with sheets and a couple of blankets. Julia had just sunk into the newly made bed when there was a knock at the door. Tossing her a pillow and the remote, he sent her a small, reassuring smile before he padded off in bare feet to answer it. He wasn't too surprised to see a straight-faced Inuyasha standing in his doorway, two large plates of tin-foiled food in his hands.

"Oi, pup. 'Gome wanted Mimi to bring you both food. I decided to be merciful and bring it myself. And you're welcome." He nodded when the younger hanyou stepped aside to let him in, though Inuyasha made no move to step past the small entry hallway. "…She okay?"

He accepted the plates with a grateful smile, which became ironic at the last question. "I suppose. Just family trouble." The food was set aside for the moment on the thin entryway table.

Inuyasha raised an eyebrow and sniffed carefully at the air. "I smell blood…"

Hiroshi sighed, scratching the back of his head. "Like I said… Family trouble. It's not too bad, though. I've already doctored it."

"If you didn't put the fear of god into the bastard, I'll beat you on principle," he warned, and his son chuckled grimly. "You want me to bring your mother by to fix it?"

Hiroshi looked amused, though, to tell the truth, he'd already considered it. "That would be rather difficult to explain, wouldn't it? Why her cut miraculously healed the moment Mother touched it."

"Mm."

"It's pretty shallow," he assured his father again. "It will heal soon enough. …Did you want to see her?" He was at a loss now that his father had delivered the food. It was a rather awkward time for a visit.

Inuyasha chuckled, shaking his head. "Nah, pup. I know how these things go, and I have a feeling visitors aren't exactly a priority. Just didn't want Mimi nosing around if the girl's not feeling up to it."

"I appreciate that—I'm sure Julia does, too." His gratitude was waved away, noncommittally.

"Yeah, yeah. We'll see you two tomorrow at Sesshoumaru's, right?"

Hiroshi tossed a quick glance over his shoulder. "Yes, provided she's still feeling up to it, at least. Regardless, I'll drop by sometime tomorrow."

"Fair 'nough. I'll let you get back to Julia. Don't do anything stupid, pup."

He laughed and held the door open. "When have I _ever_ done anything stupid?"

With a cheeky grin, Inuyasha ducked out the door, repeating, "Fair 'nough. We'll talk about that dog I hear in there tomorrow."

"You want him?" Hiroshi called after him, only half-joking, but Inuyasha was already gone. Shaking his head, he shut and locked the door before grabbing the plates and heading off for the living room. "I hope you're hungry…"

O-O-O-O-O-O

They sat together on the couch bed in comfortable silence, their attention divided between the television, the dog, and the bountiful food before them. Sharp, golden eyes often flew to his companion of their own volition, examining her. She sat slightly bent over her food with slender legs folded beneath her, and—he had to admit he found this slightly disappointing, as while he may have been a gentleman, he was still a man—she did not, in fact, sleep in her underwear. Regardless of her clothing situation, she appeared to be doing much better than she was when he first arrived to pick her up from her parents' house.

Her mother… He tried to sift through any mention she'd ever made of her mother to see if she'd left any clues pointing towards her being a victim of dementia, but simply couldn't think of any. In fact, it wasn't too often that she mentioned either of her parents, though he had not been left with a favorable impression of her father, who she'd already told him she might hate…

She tore through his reverie and the silence. "Are you sure you're okay with keeping him? I know I sort of forced him on you…"

"What, you've changed your mind already? You've already given him to me—no take-backs."

Chuckling, she repositioned herself, so that she was lying on her stomach in front of her plate with her feet dangling in the air behind her. "'No take-backs'?" she repeated. "Well, I'm glad we're being grown-ups about this."

He reached down to scratch the pup's ears thoughtfully when it temporarily settled on the floor beneath him. "It's been a while," he admitted, "since I've had a dog."

"We were never allowed to have one. Mom's is allergic." She tossed the puppy a small piece of chicken and he scrambled after it in a gray flurry of awkward limbs.

With a wry smile, he reaching to playfully grab and shake the dog's square snout. "You're going to spoil him already if you keep that up."

"What was your last dog like?"

"She was good—nothing like this one," he teased with a wistful smile, and she frowned petulantly.

"Don't hurt his _feel_ings; he _is_ a good boy, aren't you, buddy?" When she reached down to pet him, he rolled onto his back and tried to intercept her hand with his mouth. His eyes were wild and full of energy as his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth; he'd clearly found his second wind.

"He's teething—be careful."

"Aw, he's just a big baby. He's _harm_less. He needs a name."

"Do you have anything in mind?"

Her head snapped up in surprise, and she looked thrilled, then guilty. "I can't name your dog," she reminded him, as though it were the silliest idea in the whole world. And she really was the worst liar he'd ever met. It was so very obvious that the idea of naming the dog would have made her week.

"You'll be helping me take care of him, remember? You should have some say, I think. You're more creative, at any rate, so I'm open to suggestions."

"_Zooey_!" she cried immediately, easily crossing the couch, closing the distance between them to sit on her calves at his side. He'd barely had time to get the words out.

His smile was small, but genuine. "Well, you certainly put a lot of thought into that," he quipped, before repeating the name and watching the dog, which currently thoroughly entertained by one of Julia's socks.

"I sort of called him that while he stayed with me…"

"Alright, then. Zooey it is."

With a cry of excitement, she fell back onto the couch bed, draping an arm across his outstretched legs as she turned in toward him, his bare feet no more than a foot from her head. They grinned at each other before she awkwardly maneuvered her free arm for the half-eaten plate that rest somewhere behind her at the foot of the bed, and pinching a pickle between her fingers, devouring it with relish.

"I wish I could cook…"

"So do I—" He chuckled and batted a small foot away when she tried to push it against his cheek in retaliation. "Alright, alright… I suppose I should give you your present now, hm?"

She shot back up, eyes bright. "I thought you said you didn't get me anything!"

He tossed her an incredulous look. "Oh, please. I think you're getting like three more presents between Miroku, Mimi, and Mother."

"Your _mother_ got me something? That is _so_ sweet!"

"You can tell her that tomorrow," he grunted as he lifted himself to his feet, stretching his arms over his head before disappearing to retrieve the present, Zooey with his new sock hot on his heels. And when he returned, he was carrying a carefully wrapped box ('_He __**would**__ know how to wrap better than me…_') about a foot tall.

Sitting back down on the makeshift bed, he passed her the box. "It's not a dog or anything—don't get your hopes up."

She tore the paper away with childish enthusiasm, and worked to cut the tape from the unmarked box, and was about to get frustrated, when Hiroshi reached over and tore it away easily enough to warrant a half-hearted glare.

And then her heart was suddenly in her throat, and she couldn't find words and really hoped she wouldn't embarrass herself by crying in front of him again. '_He __**remembered**__…_' It was a box of ten to fifteen DVDs, and it was the single most thoughtful gift anyone had ever given her. All of them were Tom & Jerry cartoons, and she was reminded of their conversation on her legendary bad day.

She wondered how much time he had put into finding and choosing the cartoons.

"_The Cat Concerto_ **is** on one of those DVDs," he promised her when she looked back up at him, still too stunned to speak. "I made sure…" Soft blue softened even more, brightened, and he suddenly found himself out of his depth and struggling not to squirm under her powerful gaze. He had to wonder how she had gotten so damn good at that—at completely disarming him, and taking him out of his comfort zone, only to return him unharmed. And he was prepared for her to fling her arms around his neck in one of those quick and excited hugs that he had come to associate with her. However, he was nothing short of startled when she set the box aside and used her arms to slowly pull herself closer. And then she reached out to wrap her arms around to him in a true embrace that was akin to sheer vertigo.

'_You're terrible at this_,' the voice teased when the surprised hanyou fumbled to wrap his arms around her because—whether from his present or the confrontation at her parents' house—she seemed to need it.

He heard her sniffle, and squeezed her gently, a comforting gesture as he breathed in her scent, warm and sweet. When she spoke, her voice was muffled against his shoulder, but he heard it clearly. "You're the best friend ever. _Thank_ you."

And after she released him and things went back to normal, they fell asleep to Tom and Jerry's painful shenanigans, the worn-out puppy curled into a crescent moon between them.

* * *

Julia was a little pissed, and a lot uncomfortable. Not only did Hiroshi fail to tell her that they would be celebrating Christmas in a mansion not much smaller than the Vatican, but he'd promptly disappeared with a dark-haired man that she'd never met, leaving her alone in the entry hallway clinging to the puppy that she realized would soon be too heavy to tote. She heard laughter and voices, but they echoed off the marble floors and tall ceilings, and there were three possible paths she could take.

Like an idiot, she stood there for five minutes, considering her options. One of which was kicking Hiro in the shin the moment he remembered to come get her.

"Well, hey there!"

The young woman started, re-situating her squirming load, as another young woman with short, dark hair entered the foyer. "Hi," she returned nervously. "I'm—"

"Julia, of course." The catty grin on her face became even more mischevious. "I'm afraid you're sort of famous around here for taking care of two of our boys. I'm Eri, by the way." She cast Zooey a cursory glance as she guided the speechless blue-eyed beauty through the doorway on her left, and across a series of hallways. "Cute dog. He'll fit right in here. I'll go ahead and apologize for my husband—it's his fault that Hiroshi left you here. Once Kagome realized what happened… Expect a big apology from her. She even had Rin and Shippou looking for you, too."

Julia was feeling overwhelmed, and gladly allowed her to monopolize the 'conversation,' as she followed her dutifully.

"I was under the impression that you talked more…"

"Just let me regain my bearings…"

"Yeah… Sesshoumaru's place has that effect on first-timers. You should probably go ahead and try to get used to stuff like this. He can be a bit daunting when he wants to—and believe me, he always wants to. …Sesshoumaru is Inuyasha's older brother, by the way. And Miroku's grandfather."

"Will his hair be silver, too?" she joked weakly, but wasn't surprised when Eri just grinned and said, "Yep."

"Can I ask a personal question?"

"Shoot."

"Is everyone in this family successful and perfect?"

The kitsune laughed happily, leading her into a sunroom full of people. "Only me, beautiful. Only me."

Her eyes glided across all those present in the huge room, each of them gorgeous in their own right—even the adorable children and babies that ran around, tumbling over each other with giggles.

She exhaled slowly with relief when she saw a familiar face half hidden by shaggy flaming hair, and before long, Miroku was standing beside her. "Merry Christmas, Jules. Want me to take over the introductions until Hiro gets back?" He had already turned his attention with a pleasant smile to the dog wriggling in her arms, though he seemed aware of her nod.

"You should beat that pup for leaving her like that," Eri told him, her dangerous smile still in place—the cat that forever ate the canary, and Julia had no doubt that she was a femme fatale. "I'm going to go find Kagome and let her know that the big bad house didn't get the best of you after all. And by the way, you're adorable. Once you get to know everyone, you should fit right in."

And with that she was gone, leaving Julia baffled and speechless, and Miroku shaking his head with a shy smile. "She's always like that."

"You'll be saying that after each introduction, won't you?"

He peeked at her with one eye and grinned sheepishly. "Yeah."

There was suddenly a hand on her shoulder, and she turned around only to find herself face-to-face with a grin very similar to Eri's, but plastered on the face of an orange-haired man, who leaned in to scrutinize her carefully and gleefully. Beside them, Miroku groaned.

"You must be the infamous Julia! I'm afraid that your beauty has been sadly misrepresented—no one cared to warn me about how lovely you are." Julia decided that she liked him, immediately. "What in all the hells are you doing hanging out with these two ugly mutts?" he teased, now turning to his son with a fond expression and a wink. "Your niece is demanding that you be her horse. I'm apparently not good enough to cart around a five year old on my back."

"Duty calls…" Miroku shrugged apologetically at his friend. "Hiro shouldn't be too much longer, I think he and Rei are just going over a couple of work-related things. And Rei doesn't believe in working on holidays, so I'm sure he'll be quick about it. Mimi and Kannon are around here, somewhere."

"Don't worry, 'Roku. I'll entertain her," Shippou volunteered all too readily.

"I was afraid of that…"

"So! You like _magic_, don't you? Of course you do—who doesn't like _magic_?" He amazed her by producing a flower out of mid-air and handing it to her. His smirk became crafty at her thrilled expression. "So…what do you think of Inuyasha? And be honest—I need some new material."

"How about I give you some dirt on Hiroshi, instead? It would serve the jerk right for dumping me at the door."

Shippou laughed—the girl clearly satisfied all of his expectations. "I can see why Kagome thinks so highly of you. You'll do just fine here."

Face flushed and pleased with herself, Julia finally allowed the dog to slip out of her arms, watching him closely for a moment before she remembered—"What _are_ they saying about me?"

Once Shippou rejoined his wife—a woman who was just as sweet and warm, if not more so, than Kagome herself—Julia was content just to let the cherubic children giggle over Zooey. Seated on the floor, she grabbed at her bare feet and laughed like a child, herself, when the youngest of them would slowly…slowly reach out to touch the puppy, before tearing off into a sea of adult legs. And she was prepared to interfere should the puppy get too excited and start to play rough; however, Zooey was strangely subdued, careful with his teeth, and never biting down even when he had a daring arm in his mouth.

Hiroshi would be so proud!

Cue Sense of Irony and the ever-popular and whorish Uncomfortable Situation—they stopped in especially for Christmas.

"Oh no!" she gasped as the puppy began to piddle. Not only was it urinating in the house—which she _really_ should have foreseen, but the puddle was forming around a pair of shoes. A very expensive pair of shoes. A very expensive pair of shoes that were attached to feet.

'_Oh, dammit!'_

With a rapidly growing sense of apprehension, her eyes slowly slid up the long legs and the rigid torso wrapped in a white button-up to meet cool and immensely annoyed amber eyes, which were currently directed at the puddle on and around his shoes.

'_**Of course**_ _it would be the most intimidating person in the room…_' She was willing to bet her bank account that it was Sesshoumaru. And he looked _pissed_.

'_I see what you did there._'

'_Oh, hahaha…shit._'

In truth, Sesshoumaru was horrified. She would never have been able to tell, though.

She swallowed nervously and was just about to erupt in a ceaseless fountain of apologies when the stoic statue moved like fluid, snatching up the now-yipping puppy by the scruff of his neck and holding him at eye level. "This Sesshoumaru is not amused," he informed the terrified animal, giving it a single good shake. "You are never to do that again." The puppy responded by a light and ironic terror tinkle.

Sesshoumaru sighed, and relaxed his grip to ease the dog's discomfort. He missed his hardened days in the Sengoku Jidaii. He was never pissed on back then.

Julia took this opportunity to steel her nerves, shooting too her feet and scooped the puppy away from Sesshoumaru. Cradling it against her chest, she met his steady, unaffected gaze with accusing eyes. "I'm sorry about your shoes, but you didn't have to scare him like that. He's just a _baby_."

"…Indeed." He stared down his nose at her, face inscrutable, and she felt her cheeks heat up. She was just about to excuse herself from his stuffy presence when he spoke again. "I assume you are Julia." It was a statement without a hint of any question.

"Well," she tried to joke weakly, "You know what they say about 'assume'… You make an ass—" She quickly interrupted herself. '_Now, Julia, what possessed you to think that _that_ would be an appropriate icebreaker…?_' She coughed and thought she might have seen his lips twitch into the barest of smirks. "Nevermind… Yes, I'm Julia."

He said nothing, but continued to watch her, making it clear that she was not excused as he continued to size her up. She felt her irritation rise, and decided he was deliberately trying to make this awkward for her.

"Oi! Stop bothering the girl, bastard," Inuyasha said gruffly, making his way to Julia's side. Never in her life had she ever been so grateful to see Hiroshi's weird father. His brother, however, made him seem normal.

"I am attempting to have a conversation, and you are interrupting. Try to mind your manners around the guest, you tactless cur."

"Forgive him for all his holier-than-thou bullshit," the younger brother told her without disarming the scowl at his brother. "He's gone soft over the years, so he relies on first impressions to keep people from walking all over his narrow ass. It's nothin' personal."

Sesshoumaru narrowed his gaze, but then sighed, and once again returned his attention to the yellow puddle.

Chuckling, Inuyasha knelt to scratch the now-cowering dog behind his ears. "Good boy," he praised.

"I'm just…going to go get some paper towels to clean this mess up." Julia quickly extracted herself from their immediate vicinity.

"Try not to terrify the girl, ya bastard. Hiroshi will have your ass if you upset her."

Sesshoumaru gave an undignified snort. "The girl seems to be made of sturdier material than you give her credit for. Even Miroku seems to be quite fond of her. And in the hour that she has been her, she has managed to completely arrest the affections of the children."

Inuyasha watched as his mate intercepted her on her way to the kitchen, and pulled her into a hug before introducing her to Kagura. One of Shippou's grandchildren pulled at the cuff of her below-the-knee leather boot and erupted in a fit of giggles when she scooped him up and spun him around once before situating him on her hip and turning her attention back to the older women. "Mm," he hummed, ears flicking and he glanced at his oldest son before turning back to watch the women. "It's about time you showed up. Word is that Julia's going to maim you for ditching her at the door. And if she doesn't, your mother will."

Hiroshi frowned. "I hope you all behaved yourselves," he said, casting a significant glance to his uncle, and kneeling to greet his dog before trotting off to try to make amends.

Inuyasha watched his son lean over the girl with a grin before greeting his mother and aunt with a kiss on the cheek. With a wicked gleam and a smile, she tugged once on a lock of his hair, telling him _that_ was for leaving her alone. He didn't fail to notice that she leaned against him for a long moment before she righted herself and turned her attentions to the nearly-arrived Kimiko. "What do you think?" he asked his brother.

"He appears to be quite taken with her," the Inu no Taisho said at last.

"Says she's just a friend."

"I believe you used to say the same about your miko."

"Keh…" But he appeared thoughtful.

"I require paper towels," Sesshoumaru reminded them. "The girl seems to have forgotten…"

With a snort, Inuyasha left him to soak in his own devices.

* * *

This chapter was sort of everywhere, I know. But as always, I welcome questions!

Zooey - a reference to one of my favorite literary characters, as well as to an actress that I enjoy and see as similar in appearance to Julia.

* * *

_**Quotes of Randomness:**_

"_How in hell are you going to recognize a legitimate holy man when you see one if you don't even know a cup of consecrated chicken soup when it's right in front of your nose?__ Can you tell me that?" –__"Franny and Zooey" by J.D. Salinger_

_"I was gonna tell Claire about the dog. I was just waiting until she was in the right mood. Actually, I did get one right mood a couple nights ago... but I cashed that in for something else." -Phil from Modern Family (only the funniest new TV show)._


	10. Chinks in the Armor

_Chapter 10: Chinks in the Armor  
_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha._

* * *

_You've got a mouthful of diamonds,_  
_ And a pocketful of secrets_  
_I know you're never telling anyone..._

_-"Mouthful of Diamonds" by Phantogram_

* * *

_Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! It's nice to know that even after the long hiatus, people are still interested :)_

_Before we begin, I know it's been a while, and there may be some confusion of the youkai/hanyou/humans and their relationships with each other. So here is a quick reminder of the main players and their respected spouses and children:_

_**1)** Inuyasha and Kagome have three children: Hiroshi (M), Kimiko (F), and Kannon (M)-none of which have mates or children of their own._

_**2)** Sesshoumaru and Kagura adopted Rin and gave birth to Rei (M)._

_**3)** Rin married Shippou and they have four children: Sumire (F), Yuri (F), Hareru (F), and Miroku (M). Sumire and Yuri (who I've never really talked about, but have mentioned once or twice in The Pain) are the only ones that are mated, and they have children of their own who I haven't named and probably never will just to avoid unnecessary confusion-but theirs are the babies running around at the end of the new chapter._

_**4)** Rei married Kagome's old school friend Eri, and they have one child-Hana (F), who is five._

_**5)** Kouga and Ayame have three children: Ronin (M), Cho (F), and Akako (F), none of which are mated, all of which are grown. Ronin and Cho will play a part in Reverberation, so watch out for them. Cho will be sort of badass._

_Also, I am finally switching from **Tessaiga** to **Tetsusaiga**—I know it bothered a lot of readers in the past, and now it's bothering me, as well._

* * *

Hiroshi stepped over the curled hand of motionless youkai—a pretty, pale water youkai, who must have been cooking breakfast for her children when the youkai tore through the front door, most of which was now reduced to splinters. Five feet away, her two children were toppled from their chairs, half buried under the debris of the fallen table. She hadn't even made it to them before they'd died. It must have happened that quickly.

Her mate was in a tree. And on the roof. The rest of him was a smear of blood and guts in the yard—his death much more gruesome and brutal than the rest of his family's. And while he was undoubtedly attacked first, he probably died last—the faint smell of his wife's blood mingled with a bit of his own, though they were nowhere near each other. And then he was torn apart.

Hiro had been here for several minutes now—his current partner a lean, blithe otter youkai, only a few decades older than he was. Ryuu was never quite as amiable while on the job, though…

"What species do you think—"

"He's a badger," Hiroshi cut him off quietly, probing amber eyes still raking over the woman's still form. "We're looking for a badger." He crouched down at her side, arms resting on his spread thighs as he narrowed his gaze on her broken neck. Other than a slight crimson graze on her hip, she was untouched. The children, also, were still in one piece, their heads resting at grotesque angles. With a ping of regret, things slowly began to make more and more sense to him, and he knew that his father was going to have to put down a good man.

He hadn't missed the smell of human blood outside…

'_The fucker got what was coming to him._'

His brows furrowed, and he slowly digested the vicious thought. '_I don't know about _that_, but the woman…? The _children_? He _can't_ be forgiven now._'

'_She would have died anyway, without her mate,_' it pointed out.

He saw his partner's stiff nod from the corner of his eye, and Hiroshi looked up in time to see a glint of steely finality in the youkai's coffee-colored gaze as he stared down at the table. "Badger… I'll let Inuyasha know," he muttered, a hand jamming itself into his pocket as he reached for his cell phone.

The older inu hanyou had already caught scent of the trail, and would probably close in on the target before the hour was out.

Hiroshi's eyes met the glazed ice of the dead woman's. With gentle fingers, he reached out to close those thin lids, and she looked like she was merely sleeping. "I'm not saying he isn't guilty of horrendous crimes, but…he isn't in his right mind right now. Let my father know that, too. Tell him to be careful and make it quick." There was no need for a long, drawn-out fight in order to attempt to bring the badger in alive for questioning. It would prove to be pointless, as well as fruitless he was sure.

Ryuu's jaw dropped, and he floundered for a moment as he stared at the back of Hiro's head. "He's slaughtered the entire family—" he began indignantly. "Jesus, even the family _cat_ is lying in their living room, neck wrung. This is one youkai that doesn't need your pity—"

He was trying, but Hiroshi couldn't stamp out the flickering guilt that he was sicking Sesshoumaru's hounds on a man who in all probability had no prior offenses. A man who'd lost control and his mind. A man who _had_ to be taken down immediately before more were involved—he was already dead anyway. "He's not a youkai. Not really, anyway. You don't smell that?"

The youkai paused and took a careful sniff, calming his entire body so it would welcome everything to his sensitive senses. "I smell youkai. …I'm not a dog, you know," he muttered dryly.

With a wry smile that faded as quickly as it'd come, Hiroshi shook his head, clasping his hands on his knees and pushing himself to his feet again. "The scent is youkai—but it's distorted. He's actually a hanyou. And he's lost control of his youkai blood. …We need to send more trackers to search for another body—a human."

Ryuu sighed, rubbing a dark hand over messy, fuzzy hair before crossing his arms. "I _thought_ I smelled one earlier."

Nodding, though he wasn't really listening, the hanyou narrowed his eyes on a piece of the door—a chunk about as big as his torso with the knob still attached to it. That the knob had been unlocked when the youkai barreled through the door was proof enough for him that he obviously wasn't thinking clearly. "…On second thought, I think I'll call and tell him myself," he murmured.

His father answered on the first ring.

"_This_ _bastard is about to drive me up the fucking wall,_" he grouched in lieu of a greeting. "_I don't know if he's trying to throw me off his trail—which is fucking __**impossible**__ because of all the blood on him, by the way—or if he just doesn't know where the hell he wants to go._"

"How far out are you?"

"_I tracked him all around the city, but now I'm eastbound. Looks like he might be heading for the ocean_."

"Has he attacked anyone else?"

"_He's killed at least one human. I smell a lot of blood on him—both youkai and human._"

"The human," Hiroshi said suddenly, eyes snapping up to stare absently out the kitchen window. "Can you tell if it's male or female?"

"_No_, _pup. I wanna say it's a girl, but…this bastard's got a lot of blood on him,_" he repeated, his voice hard gravel. "_He's fucking drenched in the neko's. It's messing with my nose._"

The hanyou's eyes focused on the heavily dented bumper and cracked headlight of the car parked in the yard. "I was wondering…" he murmured, shaking his head to clear it as he pulled away from the window and briskly strode to the front door. Ignoring the perplexed stares of his co-workers, he directed his attention to the phone in his hand, and broke into the cold air outside. "Are you positive the human's dead?"

"_I _can_ tell that much. The scent is stale. It's dead, Hiro. …Sesshoumaru's not going to consider exonerating this prick if he's got the blood of pups on his hands, even if the human _were_ alive, if that's what you're after…_"

"It was his mate," he interrupted with an urgency that took him by surprise.

There was a long pause on the other end of the line before Inuyasha managed to find his voice. _"…What?"_

"There's human blood on the car parked in the yard. It's the blood of the badger's mate. It must have been a hit-and-run. …The neko as good as killed his own family when he brought a car reeking of the woman's blood to his own house."

Inuyasha chose this moment to add his own thoughts on the matter. "_Ah_, _shit_."

"The hanyou followed him—"

"_Fuck. He's hanyou?_" There was an irritated sigh on the other end of the line. "_Not anymore. I guess that explains a lot..."_

"He's lost control of his youkai," he agreed. "He can't reason right now."

Inuyasha was silent for a while, and when he spoke, Hiroshi was relieved that he wasn't alone in his sympathy for the lost man. The way he understood it, his father had killed before while lost in the haze of rage... _"…I have to kill him, Hiro_," he told him quietly.

"I know."

"_If_ _he's killed _children_…_"

"I know, Father. There never was any other alternative. Are you good to handle him?"

His father snorted derisively, but fell silent, and Hiroshi could predict the thoughts and doubts that were plaguing him into distraction.

"I'll send for Neijuma and give him your coordinates."

"_The hell you will. I got this, Hiroshi_."

"…Fine. Just remember that he isn't sane right now. You can't afford to take him lightly just because it hits too close to home."

When he spoke again, Inuyasha's voice was cold stone and gravel. "_I think I've had a little more practice with this sort of shit than you have, pup._" He sighed when his father hung up on him, and slid his cell back into its clip opposite Gintsume. He still brought his specialized weapon with him to work at Sesshoumaru's insistence, though there were very few times that the situation arose where he needed to draw it. Even fewer, where he needed to actually use it.

But sometimes his job bled into Inuyasha's job, and he found himself chasing and tracking rather than investigating, only. It wasn't as easy on the conscience as Inuyasha made it out to be…

'_It is way too easy to get his panties in a wad. …I can tell you're related._'

'_Kindly go fuck yourself._'

'_There you_ _go! That's the piss and vinegar I love._'

Combing a hand through his long hair, Hiroshi began to make his way back inside to finish up the job. Identifying and notifying next of kin was something he was not looking forward to, and then he had to search the database for a badger hanyou with a human wife—and he was sure there was more than one in the area. It was going to be a long day.

O-O-O-O-O-O

'_You know…it's not his fault… The badger's young. He's almost certainly never transformed before. No way he could've stopped it on his own…_'

Inuyasha kept his face carefully blank as he darted across the roof of a building, leaping and twisting onto the roof of its neighbor in a single, fluid movement, the landing failing to jar his body. He could see the ocean just ahead. The badger was probably there by now, but the inu hanyou wasn't sure what to expect or what he'd find. A hand fell to grasp Tetsusaiga's clothed hilt as he ran. '_I already know._'

'_If you just _talked_ to Sesshoumaru—_'

'_No._'

'_But—_'

'_There's nothing he can do anyway. And the cub's already dying. And insane. He's no better than a rapid dog now._'

He might have fought for him—he might have tried to save him even after he'd taken the lives of innocents—if he weren't dead already. And really…this was an act of mercy. This…would be so much better than the pain of living and slowly dying as half a person.

This would be quick. And he'd see his mate again in the next world.

It only took a couple of minutes to reach the quiet beach. Thankfully, it was still too chilly in the middle of March to be any great attraction except for the random beach combers that were presently nowhere to be found. The only life present at all was a broad figure hunching on the sandy beach, back shielding his jerky movements from his would-be executioner. The stench of blood hung heavy in the salt-tinted air, but Inuyasha waited several seconds for his own scent to reach the nose of the preoccupied hanyou-turned-youkai. And then he whirled around with a vicious snarl.

The inu hanyou studied him carefully. The badger was clean cut with what Inuyasha was sure was a baby-face in ordinary circumstances—with a certain edge of chubbiness to his stocky body. He couldn't possibly have seen half a century pass—no more than a kid by their standards. The cub was too far lost—his eyes an unnatural black with bright yellow pupils as his youkai demanded that he protect his mate's body, which Inuyasha noted was tucked carefully into his side by the crook of an arm.

He'd brought her to the beach after all, and she was such a petite little thing, lost in the arms of the thick-set hanyou as he crouched on the sand, near the dunes. Behind him, there was a small man-made pile of sand where he had begun digging a hole.

'_A __**grave**_,' he silently corrected with a twinge of guilt.

His voice was careful and quiet when it reminded him, '_You need to unleash Tetsusaiga. He'll kill you if given the chance.' _

Holding a calming hand up to quell the raging warning snarls, Inuyasha cautiously pulled the untransformed Tessaiga from its scabbard and held it at his side. "You've done terrible things," he began and shocked himself by how soothing his voice was. Soothing enough that the growls quieted, and the beast listened, though he still held his defensive crouch. "I can help you. Put down your mate."

Instantly, the badger became infuriated again, curling himself around the girl with a _roar _of pain, and the Tetsusaiga reacted on instinct, enlarging in a flare of light that made the badger barrel toward Inuyasha. It didn't take any great effort to dodge the elongated claws—the attack was made clumsy by his hold on the girl.

"I can help you," Inuyasha repeated, trying to reach the savage beast on some level. "I know you couldn't control yourself. But you killed children. You killed their mother. What would your mate say?"

There was another bellowing roar, this one even more heart-wrenching, but no attack followed. The badger was staggered, unsure of himself. He was torn between attacking and turning his attentions back to the hole he was digging. "You can't have her," the rough, jagged voice growled, and Inuyasha froze, eyes widening in surprise at the familiar words. He was taken back to a time when he was twisted around the body of his own mate, and his brother stood before him, a sword at the ready.

This ending wouldn't be happy, though. There was no Tenseiga for the badger or his mate. No second chances.

Blinking away memories, he loosened the grip on his sword, and nodded once as he took a step back—a temporary peace offering. "Bury her."

The young man instantly set to work, keeping a suspicious eye on Inuyasha the entire two hours it took to dig a pit deep enough. And then he rocked his mate with soothing growls before he laid her curled body in the hole. Savage growls tore through his throat as he began the process of burying her, and Inuyasha could easily notice the conflict in his movements. Part of him wanted to lay her to rest himself. The other part wanted to dig her back up and clutch her until he was dead and she was a skeleton. But he managed to find resolve somewhere in his mindlessness. His mate was buried by the seaside.

And after Inuyasha plunged the Tetsusaiga into the cub's heart, after he grasped at a shoulder in an attempt to lower the body to the ground, the hanyou disintegrated before the hanyou's horrified eyes. He lunged for handfuls of dust before it all blew away, and folded his protective jacket around the captured ashes as he dug up the grave again.

'_You're not always an asshole…I just want you to know that. There are worse ways the cub could have died._'

'_I… Thanks_.'

Darkness was an eminent threat when the hanyou had finally brushed some of the sand away from the human's bruised skin, replacing it with the ashes of her mate, and covering them both with the expensive dragon leather of his jacket before filling the hole around them. He contemplated his handiwork, sheathed the forgotten Tetsusaiga, and never looked back.

When he reached his house, Hiroshi was waiting for him on the porch, a six-pack at his side. "What are you doing out here?"

Hiroshi's smile was faint as he held up the beer in his hand. "Waiting for you. Want one?"

Inuyasha grunted, seating himself on the top step next to his son and grabbing the offered bottle by its neck.

"What happened to your jacket?"

"I lost it. I'll just wear the fire-rat until I can get another one made."

Hiroshi quirked an eyebrow but said nothing, tipping his bottle against his old man's with a clink. The darkness was thick now, past dinner-time, but neither hanyou was hungry. They sat in companionable silence, sipping on their beers, and it was a long time before either said anything.

Inuyasha was the first to speak. "Where's your shadow?"

"Shadow?"

"The girl—Julia."

Hiro smiled at the term, letting the bottle drop to hang listlessly between his legs. "Dropped her off at her place after work."

"What about my shadow?"

"She got called in about an hour and a half ago—an emergency. I'm not sure how long she'll be."

The elder hanyou didn't seem pleased with this information at all, though he didn't say anything. He just fidgeted and tried his best to stamp out his paranoia.

Hiroshi was far too perceptive to miss it, and unclipped his cell phone, offering it to his father. "You should call her, and let her know you made it back alright. She said it had been a while since you were out on a job this late at night."

With a nod and a weak smirk, he took the offered cell, and within seconds his mate was on the other line, and Hiroshi seemed to conveniently forget something inside, slipping away as his father sagged with relief when Kagome answered. They spoke in low tones, Inuyasha's face shadowed by a curtain of hair.

"How much longer until you get back?"

There was a pause on the other line before Kagome told him she was on her way back now, and was everything alright?

"Keh. Of course, wench. Want me to come pick you up?"

"_That's sweet of you to offer, dog-boy, but I drove. I'll be home soon. Wait up for me, okay?"_

"I don't think there was ever any danger of me not waiting up for you."

She snickered her amusement. "_You'd think I'd know better by now, huh? Well, let me go so that I can get back sooner._"

"Alright. Be careful, bitch." His voice wasn't as assured as he wanted it to be, and he dragged a weary hand across his face, hoping his mate wouldn't pick up on it, and knowing she had when she paused again.

"_I always am, baka,_" she informed him with a smile in her voice, and then the line disconnected.

Hiroshi came back out a second later and reclaimed his position at his father's side, as well as his cell phone when it was held out for him with a 'Thanks, pup.'

The beginnings of spring were all around them. The snows had melted last month, and the muddy slush was giving way to greenery and buds that had yet to open. They could smell it rather than see it on the clear, crisp night with crickets chirping all around them.

It was suddenly too dark, and the darkness too heavy, and Hiroshi too quiet. That made him nervous, too, so he shattered the silence once again. "I'm ready for summer."

"It will be here soon enough," Hiroshi promised him. "I don't think anyone can be ready for it as much as Kannon is. I hate to have to tell him that with his attendance record, there's a chance he'll end up in summer school."

Inuyasha sniggered and drained the last of his first bottle. Hiroshi cracked open two more, and passed him one. "I think Sesshoumaru's got him beat. I'm still takin' shit from him about your school, that anal bastard. How's that goin', by the way? Haven't asked you about it in a while."

"It's going well, even with all the distractions—"

His father's smirk was more genuine and brighter now, and he tossed his son a cheeky glance. "You mean the girl?"

"I was actually thinking about work… But Julia, too, I suppose. And of course my _family_ may be the biggest—and _nosiest_—distraction of all."

"I hope you're talking about Mimi and your mother. I'm not into this 'nosing' shit. And there _are_ less pleasant distractions than three women…"

A small smile playing at his lips, he glanced at his father out of the corner of his eye in good humor. "You're worse than all of them. At least Mimi and Mother _know_ they're nosy. _You_ on the other hand…"

Inuyasha chuckled. "This is what I get for asking about the girl? I ought to give you a beating on principle."

"She's starting to take issue with your consistent referring to her as 'the girl,' you know."

"Aw, hell, what else am I supposed to call her?"

"Julia?"

"That's her real name, pup. And that won't do."

Shaking his head, Hiroshi laughed, and tilted his head up to watch the stars. It really was a beautiful night. Not a single cloud in the sky. "Jules, then."

"I prefer 'the girl.' It has a ring to it—a lot like 'wench'."

Hiroshi's laughter died instantly, and he whipped his head to the side to face his father with horror in his eyes. "Do _not_ start calling her that. I'll get _hell_ for it."

"Have you bumped your damn head? I'm not giving her Kagome's nickname. That's just stupid. …She's got you that bad, huh?" He snorted, and raised his palms in surrender when Hiroshi's eyes narrowed pointedly. "Alright, Alright. I'll try to stop calling her 'the girl.' …In front of her."

"I would appreciate that. She thinks you don't like her."

Inuyasha snorted in amusement once again. "She must have bumped her damn head, too. …I can see why you're such good friends—a bunch of damn head-bumpers. …She's not that bad. Reminds me a bit of your sister, actually."

"She reminds me a little of Kan, too," he remarked reflectively.

Contemplating this for a moment, his father's face twisted into a mask of mock-terror. "God, _that's_ scary…"

"That's what _I_ said."

The girl—_Julia_—seemed to get along with all of his family on his father's side. Even Rei found her endearing, and had been rendered speechless when, upon introduction at Christmas, she'd first pinched his side for making Hiro leave her at the door before winking at him and adding "I forgive you, though. Because your hair is black, and we have to stick together." Somehow or another she'd yet to meet his uncle Souta and his family. However, his aging grandmother—much like Kagome—adored the young woman upon first meeting last month.

"Will you do me a favor?" Inuyasha suddenly asked with a little more urgency than he intended, pulling Hiroshi out of his thoughts. When the pup nodded for him to continue, he dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out a dark leather billfold. Hiroshi recognized the scent, and his eyes darkened with realization. There was a long moment where the hanyou of legend stared at it, slapping it against his open palm—and then he tossed it to his son. "I need you to find out who he was. Make sure he doesn't have cubs of his own."

Hiroshi's ears flattened against his scalp involuntarily, and he wondered if Inuyasha was trying to punish himself. It was common knowledge that that was one of the first things he would always look into after first identifying the scent. No child was ever left behind—Inuyasha _knew_ that. "No one would have thought any less of you, you know, if you'd sent one of your men after the badger. It's their _job_."

His 'keh' lacked any confidence and force, and Hiroshi was taken aback by how personal this particular job must have been for his father. "It's my job, too."

"Are you sure you really want to know about him? You want to give him a name and a life to add to the blood on your hands?" Shrewd eyes studied him intently, watched his face harden with resolve as he nodded his affirmative.

'_This is a really bad idea…_'

'_The Old Man can_ _take it. He's a tough bastard. Just leave out that last little bit, maybe._'

Over the past few months, he noticed, the voice had mellowed a little, and didn't try so hard to torment him. When it mattered, Hiroshi discovered, he was reliable. Hiroshi hummed in the back of his throat, and his frowned deepened. If he didn't tell Inuyasha, the hanyou would go searching for answers himself—he was sure of it. Maybe it was better this way…

"His name was Eiji Kusaino," Hiroshi told him after a long pause, and his father looked up at him, startled. "His mate's name was Sana Kusaino—formerly Sana Madono. They have one child—a three year old girl, Chie, who is currently staying with her grandmother Kusaino…" Hiroshi stopped at the haggard expression on the elder hanyou's face as he turned molten amber out into the night, and lost himself in thought.

It was a long moment before he spoke again. "Is that it?"

Hiroshi thought of how the elder woman, the human that married a badger, told him how excited Eiji and Sana were to discover they were having another child only a few days before. How they had planned to spend the whole day shopping for baby clothes and toys, despite the unknown gender. How that shopping trip had been brought to an abrupt and tragic end by a hit-and-run, and now she neither had a son, a daughter-in-law, nor a second grandchild… And he nodded. "That's it."

He cleared his throat after another swig of beer. "I suppose I should tell the old lady where I buried them. In case the family wants some kind of funeral…"

"I'll take care of that," Hiroshi promised. "She already knows my face," he clarified when his father shot him a dark, suspicious look, "It will be easier for her this way."

"…Yeah. Just tell her that…_Eiji_ picked the spot himself. Don't think it'd be right to move them…"

Hiroshi stood up and clasped his father on the shoulder. "I've got it under control. Get some sleep, Old Man." Inuyasha smiled at the rare, but enjoyed title, and nodded at Hiroshi, who had been forced to grow up way too fast.

And when Kagome came back from work and found him sitting on the porch steps, she seemed to understand. And he loved her for that. With a sad smile, she took the beer bottle from his hand and set it aside before kissing his forehead, letting her lips linger there for a long moment.

"Come on inside, Inuyasha. You look like you could use a relaxing bath."

He took her offered hand in his own, and lifted himself to his feet to follow her obediently inside. "You have no idea, wench."

Ten minutes later found them lounging in water so hot that Kagome's feet tingled pleasantly with needles. He relaxed in front of her, laying back against her chest, and she watched the water-darkened hair that spilled over his shoulder dance and cling just under the surface of the water.

"I worry about you while you're out there, you know?" she told him finally, the barest hint of a smile in her voice as she ran a sponge across his chest. She brushed the wet bangs out of his eyes when he sank back deeper against her and allowed her to comfort and bathe him.

The force of his own love made itself very present at that moment, and never failed to take him by surprise. It was so great, it _hurt_, and he struggled to control himself.

"Not nearly as much as I worry about you, Kagome," he said at last. And she dropped the sponge to wrap her arms around him, holding him close as she drew her knees up at his ribs, effectively cradling him with her own small body.

"I know, dog-boy..."

He knew his mate—really _knew_ her. And she knew him just as well. He was able to recognize that she was inviting him to talk about his problems without making him feel pressured to do so. And he loved her for that, too.

"I killed a hanyou today," he admitted after a long silence. "He lost his mate, transformed, and killed innocent people—I had to put him down. And he _dissolved_ into ashes… I've never seen a hanyou do that before. It's been a while since I've had to dig a grave…" he drifted off, closing his eyes when she loosed an arm to trail a finger up and down his chest wistfully. "He reminded me of _that_ day, and now I can't get it out of my mind. I keep seeing you on Goshinboku, and I couldn't even—" He cut himself off and fell silent.

There was a splash of water, and he opened his eyes to see her perfect and unmarred hands cupped and displayed in front of his face. "I'm still here, Inuyasha, and I wouldn't dream of going anywhere. I think I've got it too good, don't you?"

He pressed a kiss to each of her open palms before awkwardly twisting in the confined space to face her and pull her into his lap, raising her a bit with his crooked knees. He kissed her chin before nuzzling his face into bared breasts. "Not quite as good as I've got it."

Her chest vibrated pleasantly with her laughter, and she lightly scratched an ear, grin widening when he melted bonelessly against her. "All these free compliments," she murmured happily. "Keep it up, and we might have to call in sick to work tomorrow, o hanyou of mine." She felt the tension begin to seep out of him, and he started slipping back into a familiar mood.

She felt fangs pressed against her collarbone as he smirked saucily against her. She swallowed her shriek, instinctively clinging to his neck when he shot up with a loud slosh of water. "Mm. I like that idea, wench. Just try not to be too loud. The kids have school tomorrow."

"Way to kill the mood, baka."

He pinched her ass and groaned when she instinctively bucked against him to escape. "Don't worry," he breathed before he kissed her breathless. "It won't take me long to get us back on track."

"…I'll put up a barrier," she agreed, slightly dazed, and her fingers dug themselves into his hair, pulling him into another slow and drugged kiss, distracting him from the fact that there even was such a tree as the Goshinboku.

* * *

There was frantic knocking at his door, accompanied by the excited barking of the ever-growing Zooey. Hiroshi was already tensed for battle when Julia's scent hit him like a ton of bricks, and his eyebrows shot up to disappear beneath bangs. In an instant, he was opening the door, unsure of what state he'd find her in.

'_Better be in one fucking piece, or that goddamn father of hers is going to be minus a jaw,_' and Hiroshi paled at the utter venom in its tone.

And then suddenly she was suddenly in his arms—her own doing, for he was much too surprised to react—her legs wrapped around his waist and her arms wound tightly around his neck. His hands automatically locked together under her to offer support, and he held her as shrewd eyes flew over the landscape trying to discover anything that might be a threat. A taxi cab was driving away, and he briefly wondered if he should go after it, when he was finally able to make out was she was saying.

"I _got_ it!" she was crying over and over again.

He recovered swiftly. "Got what?"

When she pulled her head from his hair, she was sporting a grin from ear to ear, eyes bright and blue, and her black curls lazy and tumbling down to the bottoms of her shoulder blades from her decision to let it grow. He could hear the blood hum with excitement through her veins. "The _part_! I got the _part_! As Snow _White_!"

He was grinning before he realized it, and whirled her around in a rare moment of unreserved affection that reduced her to happy, infectious giggles. She rested her palms on his shoulders as he beamed at her. "That's _fantastic_, Julia. And it's about damn time. It's been, what—four months since the audition?"

"Almost _five_," she corrected, and then her face disappeared as she hugged him tightly once again. "I owe it all to you—"

"That's not true," he interrupted, "You _deserved_ this. You earned it."

She pulled back again as he started walking them into the living room. Her smile was warm, and the voice fell silent. It tended to do that now around her. "I have to give credit where credit is due. If you hadn't gotten me the audition…"

His lips curved up in an easy and completely predatory smirk as he dumped her onto the couch and loomed over her. "So you're saying you're in my debt?" Chuckling at her startled expression, he looped an arm under her legs, lifting them up and intending to sit down beneath them.

She rolled her eyes, and her smile returned, redoubled, seemed to be permanent, as she lounged back, crossing her arms to rest under her head. "Absolutely. And don't even _bother_ sitting down. You need to go get dressed into something fancy because I'm treating you to dinner!"

He quirked a dark eyebrow at her, but let her feet drop back onto the cushion before straightening. "Shouldn't _I_ be treating _you_ to dinner—you know, to congratulate you and all? It seems sort of backwards, otherwise."

"Not at all. Consider it your reward for the audition and all that gas money you've spent carting me around—which I _really_ appreciate."

His eyes twinkled, and all of his good humor was visibly churning behind them. "I must admit, it is for selfish reasons."

"Oh? Do tell."

"Oh, don't let it go to your head, Jules. I need human contact every once in a while. You talk, I'm not picky." At her infuriated "_Oo_!" he winked, and started to make his way to his bedroom to get dressed.

Her good mood made her bolder than usual, and Hiroshi shot her a gleefully stunned look when she slapped his backside to make him move faster. "Let's _go_, Hiro! Get the lead out—we have a lot of celebrating to do tonight!" The pink tinge that flooded his cheeks was completely adorable and made any possible rebuke completely worth it. And when his jaw rehinged itself and slid into a shy smile that forced her breath to catch, she wondered how much farther she'd be able to go before the lines of 'friend' and 'more' blurred dangerously. The past months had been very trying, indeed, on her limits of restraint.

Of course there had been endless flirting since their first meeting. Innocent enough, her schoolgirl crush, which she didn't dare act upon in order to secure her main tie to most of her current existing friendships. What would happen if he didn't feel the same way? What if they did date, and it ended horribly? How awkward would that be? These were things she had to consider. However, this was increasingly difficult when he was so sweet, and funny, and handsome, and…

'_Come_ _on, sweetheart,_' she commanded herself firmly, pushing herself off the couch to make her way back to the front door. '_Pull yourself together, and just be yourself. If_ _something happens, just let it happen. But don't manipulate the situation or force him into an uncomfortable situation. You know how those seem to follow you around…_'

Opening the door, she swept up a forsaken dress encased in protective plastic, as well as her duffle bag, and marched back to the guest bathroom to change for dinner. It didn't take her long to strip out of her work clothes and slip into a backless canvas cocktail dress, shaded a pretty silvery grey. She'd bought it on impulse a couple of years before, but never wore it. Never felt comfortable wearing it and risking being overdressed.

Tonight was different though. She thought about her new job, and couldn't stop the delightful and complete satisfaction that accompanied it. She reach into her duffle for the makeup bag, and deftly fished out a couple of hair pins to twist some of the curls away from her high cheekbones. Chewing on her lip, she studied her reflection in the mirror, and even considered retouching her makeup before deciding against it.

She grabbed a strand of curls and held it up to contemplate it in the mirror. For the third time in as many weeks, she suddenly regretted the loss of her blonde hair. '_Can't really change it now. I don't imagine a Snow White without the "hair black as ebony" would endear me to the higher-ups._' Excitement once again welled up unbridled inside of her at the reminder of the part, and she gave into the urge to dance victoriously in the lovely dress, hair whipping around her for a few moments.

Stilling herself, she leaned forward to grip the counter and gave her reflection a pep talk. '_Yes, yes, you're the next Audrey Hepburn, and all that jazz. Exciting. Alright. You've had your moment. Now finish making yourself presentable, and go collect your unfortunately hot friend. …Also, lipstick. You need it._'

The pep talk took away some of her pep, and she sent an accusing glare at her reflection before snatching up the lipstick and slipping on the ruffle-back black pumps. And then she cleaned up her mess, gave herself one last once-over in the mirror, and left the bathroom just as Hiroshi, sliding an undone tie into place around the back of his raised collar, left his bedroom.

For the second time in fifteen minutes, she had managed to completely catch him off guard—she was constantly outdoing herself in that aspect.

'_Wow…_'

'…_Yeah…_' he agreed, before her shifting scent hit him heavily and his eyes widened and darkened with a predatory gleam before he could bring himself to his senses, and gain control of the voice which _howled _and wrestled for control. Apparently, she was just as…_pleased_ by _his_ appearance.

'_Stop this at __**once**_,' he demanded, distracted from Julia's admiration by its sudden and frightening struggle for release that he hadn't been expecting. '_You'll frighten her!_' he roared in his own head, inhaling sharply when the pressure on his mind ceased almost immediately.

'_Right…_' it rasped at last in lieu of an apology, and Hiroshi carefully schooled his features into a neutrally polite mask. For her part, Julia—pleased with the initial reaction—was all too aware of him closing himself off before her very eyes within a matter of moments. She'd seen this act once or twice. Or fifty times.

A pang of guilt chewed at the hanyou when the force of her smile faded and became strained. She had averted her eyes now, and busied herself with fastening a bracelet around her wrist. She was disappointed?

The voice had rallied rather spectacularly, evidently determined to forget that it had just wanted to pin the unsuspecting girl between his body and a wall. '_Because you're acting like a fucking robot just now. Come on, Hiro, you hopeless bastard, look lively. She's 'the girl,' not one of Sesshoumaru's stuffy bloodsuckers. _Compliment_ her, for Christ's sake. Even _I_ know that._'

'_I'll talk to _you_ later_,' he promised vehemently, shaken by the sudden mental attack.

It swore ferociously before locking itself away.

"Maybe I _should_ have retouched my makeup," she grumbled under her breath, certain he wouldn't be able to hear her across the room, and when she looked up again, her smile was brighter. "You clean up nicely."

"I'm afraid you'll put me to shame," he sighed, and when he smiled she was relieved to see it reach his eyes again. "You look beautiful," he assured her gently. "So…when all these men come sniffing around you tonight, am I going to suffer to be your wingman, or can I beat them back with a stick?"

Her laughter was soft. "You'd really be my wingman?"

"I didn't think you'd agree when I volunteered," he admitted, unable to keep the distaste out of his voice, and she giggled again, closing the distance between them.

"Oh, cool your heels. I've lately found myself with a surplus of men in my life. I don't really need any more. Now bend down just a bit, you freakishly tall man, so that I can fix your tie." When he snorted but stooped, his rope of hair tumbled over his shoulder, and Julia took the long, gleaming plait in her hand before carefully releasing it and fixing her attention on the long black silk that hung from both sides of his upturned collar. "I like the braid."

"Yeah?"

She hummed her affirmative with a small smile and set to work on the unfinished black tie. He watched her work quickly, skillfully as she folded and threaded and looped until she had formed a perfect Windsor knot.

"Not bad."

She grinned, folded down the collar, patted his coat smooth and let her hands fall away. "I've had plenty of practice between Jackson and Charlie." It had been a while since he'd lost his title as 'Dad.'

With soft eyes, he offered her his arm. "Shall we?"

O-O-O-O-O-O

"I've never had lobster before," she leaned forward to whisper excitedly in the air between them, and he had to shake his head with a smile. "I feel so _ritzy_!"

"This is a nice place," he agreed amiably, taking another bite of his braised beef.

"A nice experience. But to be honest, I still prefer the informality of take-out in sweats and a movie to this." He gave her another one of those strange smiles, and she was unnerved, but continued bravely. "…I do enjoy dressing up every now and then, though… I don't get to do it very often."

"You'll have plenty of time to do that in the future," he promised her, poking at his food with his fork. "When do you begin filming?"

"Oh, I'm not sure," she admitted. "It will be a while. I have to figure out what they want, and run through it all first." She played nervously with her bracelet, and her eyes slid across the room around them. "I'll have to figure it out fast, though. No one wants to rehire an actress that doesn't know the ropes… The longer it takes, the more money they waste on me."

"Julia. You'll be _fine_. I think you know more than you give yourself credit for—you _do_ have a penchant for dramatics, you surely realize."

She smiled. "Jerk. Hey, do you mind if I stay at your place tonight?" The request wasn't that unusual, however, when she did stay over, it was rarely, if ever, on a weeknight, and he was mildly surprised.

"Not at all," he recovered graciously. "I can drop you off at the diner on my way to work. I assume you will need a change of clothes?"

A sheepish, cheesy grin, and he found himself further endeared to her. "Actually… I assumed you would say yes, so I have some in my duffle bag at the house. Sorry," she hurried to add, not sounding very sorry at all. "Also, I'm taking the day off tomorrow, and spending the day with Mimi—she's been insisting for the past two weeks that we have a 'girl day.'"

"But Mimi has school tomorrow," he volunteered, confused.

"Right… About _that_…"

His quiet chuckling was resigned, and she took another bite of the steamed crustacean on her plate. "You're a bad influence. Possibly as bad as Kannon, even."

He was rewarded by a petulant tongue peeking out of her mouth

"Oh, don't _even_. I think your brother and sister are more corruptive of me than I am of them."

"Sadly, this is probably true. What will you do tomorrow?"

The girl turned her attention back to her plate and shrugged. "Mimi said something about going to the spa. And I think she wants me to attend a kick-boxing course to see if I enjoy it." She was aware that a fine eyebrow had arched of its own volition without even looking up to confirm. "I should make it back in time for our weekly routine. I wouldn't want to deprive Miroku of his virtual body count, the jerk."

"I'm glad to know that being around my father and brother hasn't affected your language. Or offered potent variation to your name calling."

She narrowed her eyes, lips twisting up into a challenging smirk. "Ass," she volunteered, and he chuckled once again. She thought about it for a second, before pressing forward. "Bastard… _Rat_-bastard… Cum-guzzler—" She cut herself off when her friend choked on his water and burst into a fit of coughs. She bit her bottom lip to control a wicked smile that was threatening to make an appearance. "Should I…pat your back or something?" She was lifting herself from her chair, when he shook his head, his coughs beginning to subside.

"Kannon?" he asked.

"I'll never give up my source!"

"You never fail to surprise me," he sighed, but couldn't shake his amusement.

"You don't strike me as the type of person to enjoy a good surprise," she admitted at last, twisting a curl around her finger.

His brows furrowed, but his face was far from unpleasant. It was _honest_, she realized. "I'm not. It's strange."

"Because you like me so much?" she teased, and he snorted.

"I _tolerate_ you. …But yes."

Her smile was genuine. "This was nice. Thank you for coming to dinner with me."

O-O-O-O-O-O

'_How the hell did this happen again?_'

Hiroshi was uncomfortable. Well, not really _uncomfortable_ so much as unsure what to _do_…

'_I have a few ideas…_' it volunteered all too smugly, and Hiroshi growled a low warning that made the young woman's lids flutter softly in her sleep. His body was rigid as she curled herself into his side under the covers, her warm breath mothing lightly against his awkwardly pinioned arm.

'_Just go through this slowly, make sense of it, and would you calm the fuck down? Worse things have happened than having a pretty bitch in your bed._'

He was glad she wasn't awake to see the blush that dusted his face. Right.

1:32 a.m. –a Miss Julia Braden—fuck this. Too formal, and she wasn't a body he'd found in an alleyway. He paused, shuddered at the image, inhaled, continued.

Circumstances: private celebration after dinner.

Cause? Low alcohol tolerance and personal consumption of four glasses of champagne.

Effects? …Awkward questions and questionable sleeping quarters that I'm not sure she'll be comfortable with in the morning.

After he had left her to the made out living room sofa and made his way into his bed, she had followed barely ten minutes later, wanting to talk as she comfortably situated herself beside him on his bed.

And they did talk—about everything and nothing. He enjoyed her loose giggling composure brought on by alcohol. He had seen sloppy drunks in his time, and quite a few criers. At least she was a happy drunk. But some of her questions dug their way under his skin.

He remembered the way she had smoothed her thumbs across his cheeks as she lay on her side, facing him, and he instinctively pressed against her palm. "Oh, Hiroshi," she had murmured, "Why so mysterious?"

"I've heard it can be an attractive quality… I suppose you don't agree." He had tried to make light of her alcohol-induced comments, but found it difficult. She was too close, her presence imposing and thick and wholly welcome…

She'd had difficulty bringing her laughter to a halt, and he had found himself grinning involuntarily. "Oh, please," she's finally said, breathless. "Like you _need_ another attractive quality." And then, "Will I ever know you?"

"Jules…" He smiled at her as gently as he knew how. "You already do."

"Do I?"

And that had stopped him up short because it was gut-wrenchingly true. Rather than assuring her that she did know him, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "What makes you think you don't?"

"You sometimes have sad eyes. But even that is better than your mask." His eyes closed when her hand passed thoughtfully over his face barely avoiding skin-to-skin contact. "You hide everything from everybody sometimes. I think that's why you're sad."

When he didn't say anything, she had pressed on with alcohol-induced resilience. "What happened when you were ten?"

She was too tipsy to see his smile and eyes tighten, but the pause didn't escape her. "…I told you before, didn't I? A long time ago. My father gave me Gintsume—my sword."

"And that's it?"

"A lot of things happened that year, Jules. But it was a long time ago. Ginstume was the biggest event. Why this sudden interest in a very specific year of my childhood?"

She had sighed, closed her eyes as the drowsiness set in. "My talk with Mimi. It's been bothering me for a long time. I guess I was just afraid to ask…"

And then she was asleep, and he was acutely uncomfortable and aware that she was unconsciously reaching for him within minutes. He knew that she had little qualms with touching others. She often grabbed, hugged, hit, or jumped on him and various members of his family—well, the younger members, at any rate. However, he wondered if he was doing her an injustice by not removing himself from the situation and sleeping on the couch.

She was inebriated, and she might wake up disoriented, confused… It was the first time they'd ever fallen asleep in his bed—it was oddly more intimate than falling asleep together on the couch bed in front of the television.

A low whine tugged him out of his musings, smoothing his brow from worry as he surveyed the newly-arrived puppy. Zooey did an agitated prance in order to hurry his disentanglement from the human girl, and raced to the front door when he stood to follow.

As the hanyou waited for the dog to relieve himself, he was confronted by the voice.

'_Ya_ _know, eventually we're going to have to figure out our feelings for the bitch._' The harsh term was tempered by an uncommon thoughtful and soft tone. It was being so serious that Hiroshi nearly laughed out of shock.

'_Since when do _you_ have feelings_ '

Deliberate and distinctive growls ripped through his mind. '_I have more feelings than you, you creepy jackass. Just because I'm not as whipped and trained as you, doesn't mean I have no loyalties, Hiro, you bastard. You _know_ I'd kill for our family. I can protect them every bit as well as you can._'

'_Honestly,_ _I have no idea. You've given me no cause to trust your humanity and reason. And what the fuck happened to you today? You would have had me charge her…_'

'_Wasn't going to hurt her,_' it grumbled. 'You_ smelled her, too… Wouldn't be surprised if I wasn't the only that contributed to the impulse. She smelled…_god_…_"

Hiroshi's ears flattened against his head, and he glared out at the night. "She's human," he said aloud, and Zooey's ears perked before he went back to sniffing the grass. "You could hurt her if you're not careful. And she doesn't understand…"

'_You could change that. And tell her._'

Hiroshi froze, began suspiciously. '_What's so different about _this_ girl? Why is _she_ an exception to your…attitude,_' he wisely censored.

'_Why is she an exception to yours?_' it countered briskly. '_You've told her some things you wouldn't normally tell people. You _enjoy_ her company. You're attracted to her._'

When Zooey padded past him to wait at the door again, Hiroshi opened the door and followed him in, lost in thought. Timing-wise, a relationship couldn't have come at a worse time. Finals were coming up, graduation, and work…was a nightmare. Faith in the Inu no Taisho was fairly shaken. It might even be a little dangerous for her to be associated with him… And then, of course, there were her feelings to consider.

At the very least, he knew she was attracted to him on a physical level. And he knew they got along amazingly. She was lightness, he knew as he found himself in his bedroom again. And after a long moment, torn with indecision, he sighed, and slipped into the bed again—on the other side this time.

Maybe she would be less uncomfortable in the morning if there was distance between them. And he couldn't say he was disappointed when—minutes later—she rolled over in her sleep and felt for him, movements ceasing when flexing fingers found his shirt and held on.

She was beautiful, long lashes fluttering, her dark hair tumbling over her bare arms. Her lips moved soundlessly as she dreamed, and he was stricken by a sudden selfish impulse. Without a second thought, he wrapped an arm around her back and pulled her closer to brush he lips against her cool forehead. And as she curled herself more firmly against him, he buried his nose in her hair, allowing her vanilla scent to drug him into a deep sleep…

He'd deal with the consequences tomorrow, if need be. He could lay on the charm just as thick as she could.

* * *

I hope you enjoyed your gratuitous Inuyasha and Kagome scene! I'm probably going to push their relationship pretty fast, because I'd like to finish this story in 20 chapters. And I still have a -lot- to do with the bad guys. But I have to take care of other stuff first. Thanks for reading, and I love reviews! Also, I'm so flattered by the compliments on my original characters-I'm glad you like them!


	11. Those Halcyon Days

_Chapter 11: Those Halcyon Days_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha_

_

* * *

_

_This chapter is purposely all over the place. It's a collection of random scenes meant solely to further develop the characters and their relationships. And fuck, is it a whopper. I think you'll be pleased, though. I appreciate your reviews and patience more than you can ever know! :)  
_

_

* * *

_

_You were lonely, I was bored.  
I may be more than you can afford,  
But I'm sure we'll meet halfway_

_-"Call Me Calmly" by Barenaked Ladies_

* * *

_**March**_

Whenever she had been drinking, she never got a full night's sleep, and Julia found that tonight was no exception. She didn't even need to check the clock to know that it was no later than four in the morning. With a low groan, Julia refused to open her eyes and sank deeper into the comforter to find a cool spot in the sheets. But then her leg brushed against something firm and clothed, and her heart froze in her chest. Light breathing dusted against her forehead, barely stirred her hair, and it took a couple of seconds before her brain was able to catch up with her and quell her rising panic.

She cracked an eye open and realized a familiar and masculine jawbone was in her direct vicinity, and almost smiled. But then hazy memories came back to her, and she remembered some of the questions she had asked him in her intoxicated state.

Including if he'd ever had sex before. With another, louder, groan—this time of agonizing embarrassment rather than plain, cotton-mouthed agony, she turned her face enough to mash it into the pillow and froze when she heard Hiroshi take a deep, sharp breath. Then she felt the weight of his arm slung over her hip as he melted further into his sleep with a barely audible '_woof'_.

The sound reminded her of a dreaming Zooey, and she grinned before she could help herself, biting her bottom lip as she looked up to study his face. She'd never noticed how long his lashes were, the thick fringe of black clashing with the strands of silver that threatened to slip across his sleep-softened face. She wanted to sweep it away.

'_He's_ _sleeping pretty deeply_," she justified earnestly, listening to his shallow breathing. '_There's no harm in being nice enough to brush it back before it tickles him._' She felt satisfyingly sneaky when she reached up with tentative fingers, pushing the outgrown bangs out of his face.

When he failed to react, she smiled and closed her eyes again, her last waking thought—'_Should've been a ninja'_ or '_Beautiful_.'

And then there was stubborn light, a squeal of delight, and a sudden forceful quaking of the mattress that had her bolting up into a sitting position. She reflexively grabbed at her throat, heart racing and head throbbing as she fought to regain her bearings.

'_Oh, shit_.'

It was suddenly very clear to her the origins of the earthquake in her bed. Mimi had jumped onto the foot, and was staring at her with an all-too-excited grin that bared all of her teeth and nearly forced her eyes shut above the apples of her cheeks.

'_Oh, _shit_,_' she reiterated in her sluggish mind with more emphasis, and had the good grace to look abashed as she nervously twisted the navy blanket in her hands. She tried to sneak a covert glance at Hiroshi's spot and found it empty and cool to the touch.

"He's been gone for a couple of hours. It's already 9:30," Kimiko filled her in, and Julia further deflated at the dangerous cadence to her smug tone. "He probably didn't want to wake you after the night you had…"

There was a choking noise that reduced the silver-haired hanyou to incessant giggles. "We didn't—nothing _happened_!"

Mimi let a hand flutter over her mouth to stifle the last of the bell-like laughter and a single delicate brow arched to reveal her skepticism.

"It didn't," she insisted.

"Jules, that's _not_ what I want to hear!" she whined petulantly, slapping her hands against the mattress beneath her. She was well aware that the girl was being truthful, though. There were—frustratingly enough—no lingering and naughty scents to claim otherwise. "Gah! I wish you two would just get together, already." And then, suspicious, "…You don't like _Miroku_, do you?"

Julia shot her a mutinous glare, and pushed the covers away to hop out of bed. Or rather, given her mild leftover-hangover, crawled out of bed. "I love Miroku. But not in that way."

"And my brother?"

She straightened her back proudly even as she knew her face was flaming up. "We're _friends_, Kimiko. …I'll go get dressed. We should probably get going soon."

"_Oo_! I _knew_ it! I'll bet he wants to make you his sex-kitten!" she called out, jogging out of the room after her tormented friend. "And you _want_ him to!"

"I am so glad he isn't here for this…" Julia found her duffle bag and shimmied out of her pajama shorts, casting the gleeful hanyou a dark look when she followed her into the bathroom.

"You're like…celibate rabbits," Mimi proceeded with a mournful, but resigned tone. "You spend most of your time making goo-goo eyes at each other under the guise of friendship. You might as well just take a shortcut to the inevitable."

Fishing out a pair of exercise tights and a long, loose t-shirt, she tried to focus on getting dressed, but still found herself muttering, "I seriously doubt Hiroshi would be grateful for your advice, were he here." She tried to imagine how he would handle the situation. Undoubtedly with a blank face, and a careful warning—'_Mimi_.' That was all he would have to say, and his sister would know better than to continue, and things would continue as normal after a couple minutes of awkward tension. And that maybe got under her skin more than anything the chipper young woman had said.

"You two need an interloper, I _swear_. Am I going to have to take this into my own hands?"

"We have a good thing going, Mimi. Why complicate it? It probably wouldn't work out anyway."

The girl appeared stunned, and fell silent for a long moment, remembering herself only when Julia slipped past her, tennis shoes in hand, and back into the living room. "That's so _cynical_… Why would you even _think_ that?"

Without an answer, Julia sat on the couch and worked on tying her shoes, scratching the huge puppy's ears when he came bounding up to her out of nowhere, undoubtedly leaving a shredded mess somewhere in his wake, she noted when she saw a tiny, pulpy piece of toilet tissue stuck to his lolling tongue.

"Well?"

Mimi's hands were balled on her hips, and it was clear that she wasn't going to let this drop anytime soon, so Julia made a face at her, and let her hand fall away from Zooey, who instantly went to work gnawing and tugging at the newly tied laces.

"We're from two different worlds, Kimiko. He'll realize it eventually."

The young woman paused, surprise written across her face as she quickly tried to assess what Julia meant—how much she knew… "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Why don't we just drop this? If we leave now, we may have time to pick up some breakfast or something."

"No, I want to know what you meant by that—'_two different worlds'_," Mimi pressed on, an uncharacteristic display of worry and seriousness written across her brow.

Julia tried to laugh, tried to make it a joke, but failed, and her friend actually looked concerned. "I'm not exactly a prize catch. I mean…I'm a _waitress_… I can barely pay my own rent. Last night's dinner nearly broke my bank. …He _could_ do better, you know." She smiled wryly.

Disappointment weighed on the young woman's face, and she managed to look a little hurt. "Now _that_ excuse borders on insulting. Do you think any of us care that much about money? Have a little faith in Hiro—he'd be heartbroken if he heard what you just said."

"I'm not saying—"

"You're right—I don't want to talk about this anymore," Kimiko decided suddenly, grabbing her friend's hand to pull her towards the door. "I'd rather have a massage, hear you say _nice_ things about my brother, and then teach you how to kick butt."

Before she knew it, she was pulled out of the empty house and into the car that the twins shared. "I'm still not sure how I feel about that last part."

But Mimi waved her concern and skepticism away with the bat of a hand. "Oh, you'll love it."

Six hours later, and two hours into her lessons, Julia was fairly sure she did _not_ love it when Mimi threw a knee into her side—the only thing that kept her from a heavy fall was the headlock that the exuberant girl held her in. No, she did not love it _at all_.

She struggled to push the girl away to lift her tank and check for bruises. "_Ooooww_… Mimi, that's going to leave a _mark_," she complained.

The girl was unfazed and bounced on the balls of her feet, wiggling her gloves, daring her to come for her. "Oh, suck it up, you baby. This is _fun_! You're learning how to defend yourself and beat up my brothers. _So_, come at me, and keep your face guarded."

Julia's face fell from an irritable pout to wary hesitance. "Mimi… Why would I have to guard my face…? You're not going to hit me, are you? Because I can't go to work with a bruise..."

"_Arrgh_—you're ruining this." There was a heavy sigh. "I'm not going to hit you in the face. But just because _I_ won't hit you in the face doesn't mean someone else won't. So _keep your face guarded_."

"Oh. Right."

"Anyway, Hiro would kill me if I left a bruise in a place where he'll actually be able to see it. …So I figure your thighs and ribs are unfortunately safe for me to mangle horribly. …This wouldn't be an issue if you'd just admit you _want_ my brother."

Julia shot her a curt smile that left her friend grinning and easing into readiness again. "I actually _want_ to hit you now."

"Great! Come at me," she repeated, looking far too satisfied and enthusiastic at the prospect of being kicked or jabbed by the rather slight human girl. And so the rest of the hour was spent dodging kicks and elbows and a light volley of fists, which she became increasingly successful at dodging and blocking. And she was proud of herself, began to enjoy herself, even though she ached like a _mother_, knew it would be even worse tomorrow, and though it was painfully obvious that the only reason she was able to move at all was because Kimiko had taken it easy on her and pulled some punches and kicks.

But that didn't mean that she, who bruised so very easily, wasn't going to be covered in rapidly mottling flesh. She could already feel her body stiffening from the blows and the prolonged workout. And later that night, after visiting with Kagome and her sweet aging mother, Mimi dropped her off at Hiro's before she disappeared, intending to change her clothes and meet Kannon at a party.

Hiroshi and Miroku paused the game when she came limping through the door, trying not to show just how out of shape she was and how sore after her workout. She grinned at them after stiffly stooping to greet the excited puppy scrambling around her feet. "I hope you saved me some noodles. I'm starving."

The two hanyou stared at her, aghast.

She straightened back to her feet and met their stares. "What? What's wrong?"

And then Hiroshi shot off the couch and stroke briskly toward her, carefully grabbing an arm, and turning it to see all of the discolored skin—evidence of her fending off Mimi's kicks.

She winced when her muscles protested. "Be careful—I'm sore."

"What happened?" Her grin faltered under his clipped tone, and she was distracted when he grabbed her other arm to examine it, as well, before he began to lift the hem of her shirt to see the huge mottling bruises on her stomach and ribs. He saw enough before she pulled the fabric away from him and smoothed it back into place.

Miroku was at his side now, the nervous concern to his cold anger.

There were growls, and when it spoke, the voice vibrated with fury. '_That_ _fucking candy-ass _coward_… What the fuck did he _do_ to her? …You warned him, Hiro. You clearly need to break his goddamned hands._'

She tried to make light of the situation because he was acting as though she were the victim of some vicious attack. "I fell down some stairs?" she tried with a smile which ended as quickly as it came when he actually _snarled_, bared his teeth as he looked at her, straightened and blanked his features as she instinctively retreated a step and paled.

Had he ever looked so dark and frightening? So…un-Hiro-like?

"Alright. I'll talk to him. This isn't going to happen again." And he sounded so certain and _dangerous_ that she believed him before she realized she had no idea what he was talking about.

"…Him?" It only took a few more seconds to realize he was talking about her father, and she might have laughed if he wasn't so serious. "_Charlie_? You think _Charlie_ hit me?"

He instantly looked dubious. "He doesn't exactly have a great track record of _not_ injuring you in my book."

"Okay, that was three months ago. You _have_ to get over that. It was an accident."

He looked like he might vehemently disagree before Miroku quietly intervened. "Okay, it wasn't your father. So what _did_ happen to you?"

With a frown, Julia nodded at her sullen, silver-haired friend. "I told you last night that I was going to attempt kickboxing with Mimi today. Well," she continued with a shrug that nearly made her groan, "I'm not very good at it yet."

"…Don't tell me _Kimiko_ did this..." Hiroshi looked nothing short of horrified as he gestured helplessly at her body, and Miroku worried at his bottom lip as he flicked his gaze to his cousin.

"Well, I'd rather she teach me than some stranger, since she seems to know what she's doing. And we had fun."

"_Fun_…? Jules, you're covered in bruises," he bit out incredulously, before whirling away and snatching the phone off the receiver.

She looked at her arms before winking good-humoredly at the red-headed kitsune, who still looked unsure. "I bruise easily," she assured him. "It's not nearly as bad as it looks. In a few days, I'll look good as new. …What are you doing? You're not _calling_ her are you?" Hiro ignored her in favor of dialing his sister's cell number. "Hiroshi, _come on_! You're overreacting. You need to lighten up." When he continued to ignore her as he listened to the ringing, she looked plaintively at her other friend. "Miroku, will you help me talk some sense into him?"

"He's just going to talk to her, Jules… Come on. We'll make some hot compresses for your muscles"

"He's going to ruin her _party_!"

"Her _party_? Like I give a sh—" he cut himself off when his sister answered with a happy '_Hiro!_' "Are you _insane_," he hissed in lieu of greeting, making his way to his bedroom for privacy, and locking himself in when Julia made to follow him.

There was a pause, and then, "_Have you been undressing my beautiful friend?_" Her usual playfulness was imperceptibly strained.

He took a second to reign himself in, allowed Satie's Gymnopedie No. 3 to sooth his mind and block out the jiggling of the doorknob, the pounding on the door before he dared to continue.

"_Hiro?"_

"Kimiko," he let the seriousness of his tone attached to her full name sink in as he spoke. "She's black and blue all over. I was ready to go find whoever did it, and then I find out _you're_ responsible?"

"_I was teaching her how to kickbox. She needs to learn how to defend—_"

"She's _human_, Mimi. You have to be careful—"

"—_Oh, for crying out loud, Hiro, I know! Do you think I _wasn't_ spending all of my energy concentrating on not hurting her?_"

Julia was trying to pick the lock to his bedroom door, and he sighed as he watched and heard it jiggling. "It wasn't good enough. This is not going to happen again, do you understand, Kimiko?"

"_Stop_ _calling me, Kimiko, _Hiroshi_. You should be glad—"_

He dragged an irritated hand through his hair, and pulled the phone away from his ear to glare at it. "Well, I'm not."

"_You should have seen her. She wasn't half-bad by the end of the lesson, and she was becoming more confident. She'll get better with more practice."_

The door opened, and Julia was glaring at him, shoving the hairpin she'd picked the lock with into her pocket before folding her arms over her chest.

"If you're yelling at her, I'm going to be mad," she declared matter-of-factly, and Hiroshi pulled the phone away to press it to his chest. "Just a warning."

"Do you hear me yelling?"

"No, but I know how you are. You're probably making her feel bad for no good reason."

Rolling his eyes, he turned back to his conversation with his sister. "There's not going to _be_ any more practice. I thought I made myself clear on that."

"_What_?" they cried at the same time, before they broke into mismatched and angry disagreement.

"You have _no_ right—"

"—_were having __**fun**__—_"

"—bruise easily, you jerk—"

"—_needs to learn this stuff, Hiro!"_

Finally, Julia strode up to him to snatch the phone away.

He heaved an irritated sigh. "_Julia_."

"I'm sorry, Mimi. This is just a misunderstanding. I'll be ready for the next session on Tuesday. And do me a favor and don't let him spoil your evening—have fun!" And then she hung up.

Not that she could see them, but his ears flattened against his scalp when she silently regarded him once again. Her expression was full but unreadable, all the same, so that he couldn't tell whether she was angry or wanted to ask him a question that she couldn't quite word correctly.

When she spoke again, her voice was soft and firm at the same time. "I'm flattered that you care enough to defend me like that, but we need to get this straight right now. I'm a grown woman. You don't get to tell me what I can and can't do. And getting fit is something I've decided I want to do. Okay?"

He looked aggravated and exasperated. "I'm not _trying_—"

"Just say 'Okay,' Hiro, so that we can go eat and play Halo. I'm still hungry."

She smiled at the hesitance in his amber eyes, and he relented when she carefully looped an arm through his to lead him out of the bedroom. It bothered him how easily her bruises got under his skin. Was that even normal? Fuck…

'_I don't guess we could still kick her old man's ass, huh?_'

'_No. She still seems attached to him. Besides, it wasn't her blood that hurt her this time. It was mine…_'

'_Well, damn._'

"Okay...Just…be careful, I guess."

"Aww, how sweet," she teased, shouldering him even when her body protested. "You're like my guard dog! But you should be saying that to Mimi. With practice, I have potential, I'll have you know."

He reigned in his doubtful glance before she caught it. She was just so petite, and honest, and innocent. "That's what I'm hoping…"

"Now, while Mimi is teaching me how to kick real butt, you get to teach me how to kick virtual butt. …Specifically, Miroku's."

Finally a smile touched his lips, and things began to drift back to normal. "I'm afraid that no amount of training in the world will help _your_ body count."

'_Ugh!_'There was a heavy sigh. "You're such an…ass."

"Wow at the language," he drawled. "If it makes you feel better, I'll avenge you."

She laughed as they rejoined their friend and dog.

O-O-O-O-O-O

On March twenty-eighth, a seven year old human boy became the fiftieth victim, and was left mutilated behind a bakery. There was nothing excessively different from the other victims, other than his death marked the sudden and shocking end to the greatest murder spree that Tokyo had witnessed in over two-hundred years.

Relief mingled with a deep sense of suspicion and horror among the frightened citizens who always worried if one of their children would be the next victim. Maybe…maybe this was the end of it all. Maybe they could just go on with their lives and forget this ever happened—they didn't even care if the person or people responsible were never caught, as long as they just _went away._

The great Sesshoumaru's hackles were not lowered, and tension within his organization was not abated. They continued to look and wait over the months.

But they left no trace behind, a band of brutal ghosts.

* * *

_**April**_

"King me."

There was a frustrated huff as Julia slapped a black checker on top of one of its brothers in an obviously petulant manner. And then she looked hard for her next move, but found herself surrounded. It surprised her how great he was with strategy games, since he seemed so…well…un-Hiroshi-like. "Well, this just isn't _fair_."

Kannon glanced up at the perturbed girl and chuckled before returning his attention to the red and black checkered board. "Hey, _you're_ the one that picked the game. _I_ was all for Twister, sweetheart."

She eyed him warily, allowing a catty grin. "I'll bet you were."

The young hanyou had regrettably chopped off the blackened tips of his growing hair earlier in the week, leaving his hair shoulder-length and completely silver once again. "I guarantee you would have enjoyed yourself. I've got some moves you've never even heard of."

"I saw that picture you sent Hiro Friday. I'm well aware of the moves you've got, and I'd prefer you stay on the other side of the board, please."

"Oh shit," he chuckled again, looking pleasantly surprised as he turned his attention away from the board. "He _showed_ you that? _My_ tight-ass brother?"

She rolled her eyes, and tried to covertly nudge one of her checkers into another square without looking suspicious. "He wouldn't at first. But then he made a big deal about it—I think I'm rubbing off on him, by the way—and let me snatch it from him. I think he wanted to see my reaction."

He thought about the picture, and a Cheshire grin took its time spreading across his face. "So you've seen more of me than you have of Hiro?"

He looked all-too-satisfied as she felt her face heat up. She glared at him. "Don't be a pig."

"A pig?" he questioned, surprised. "Oh, Jules—I'm not a pig, I'm a _dog_. A goddamn _sexy_ one, at that."

"You're _something_," she agreed under breath.

"And all the girls love it—can't get _enough_ of it," he goaded, loudly tapping his claws on the checkerboard. At her undignified and disbelieving snort, he feigned hurt. "Well, you're the exception. But you're hung up on my brother, so you don't count."

Her glare was withering, but she and Hiro had long since gotten used to the twins' teasing, for the most part ignoring them. The hanyou watched in fascination as her features smoothed into an innocent, earnest glance. "And don't worry, I'm sure that bathroom was just a little _chilly_. …_That_ probably explains it. I just hope that Big-Boobs McGee was able to warm you up a little and wasn't too harsh."

She mentally congratulated herself on stunning the dirty-minded hanyou.

"Oh, that is just _cold_, Jules," he gasped and barked out a single shocked laugh.

"And that's what I just said." She took the opportunity to skip over a black marker on the board and claim it as her own. She grinned when he shot her a look.

"Sneaky, Jules. Real sneaky." There was the clack of plastic against the board as he jumped the offending piece.

But at least it put her back in the game.

"And I don't know what picture you saw, but it should have taken up most of the shot. …Chilly my ass," he muttered, disgruntled.

She was still grinning, and couldn't help but goad him further with a doubtful "sure, sure."

"If you're criticizing the _Commander_, then you're going to be seriously disappointed when you see Hiro's Private."

She looked confused for a moment, before understanding dawned on her and her jaw dropped involuntarily. His arms shielded his face defensively when she pelted a checker at him. "Oh, you are just _awful_!"

"Aww, look at how embarrassed and disappointed you look," he teased. "Just when I was starting to think it was impossible to get under your skin…. But don't worry, Jules. Size isn't everything. I'm sure you can teach my poor brother a few useful tricks. The ol' Private just needs some training."

"You're such an awful brother. I'm so glad Hiro's not here. He would be _mortified_…"

With a careless gesture of the hand, Kannon turned his attention back to the checker board. "Nah… He'd be grateful that I'm not revealing exactly how small—" He laughed when two more checkers smacked his cheek and chest.

"I'm sure he's more than…_ugh_…perfectly adequate," Julia muttered, face bright with embarrassment and wondering why the hell she was even talking about this. Or felt the need to defend Hiroshi's…er, manhood. She mashed her palms to her face and pressed on, doggedly. "But even if he's not, it's nothing to be ashamed of, I'm sure."

Kannon took the opportunity to burst into uncontrollable laughter as his father entered the room and made his way over to the sofa, whopping the boy's silver dome and mussing his hair as he passed.

"I don't even want to know how you two got on this topic of conversation… But ignore him, Jules," the older hanyou directed distractedly as he seated himself and began to glance over the papers in his hand. "He talks a big game when Hiroshi isn't here to defend himself. And you—stop talking about that shit in front of the girls. Fucking raised you better than that."

Kannon chuckled when Julia, frustrated, embarrassed, and with only a few checker left, placed both hands on the board and scrambled the pieces. "Oops."

O-O-O-O-O-O

"I know, Zoe, I know," she cooed to the overgrown puppy as she sank to the floor to scratch his ears as his eyes drifted dopily closed. A laugh escaped her lips when he leaned into her hand so far that he stumbled sideways. "Those big old mean guys are ignoring you, huh? That's okay—come see me!" The dog happily pressed his lowered head into her stomach, allowing her to rub his back.

She waited until Zooey had rolled onto his back, staring at her with wild eyes as he gnawed on his paw, before she pushed herself to her feet and walked the short distance to the back of the couch where the guys were lost in their video game.

"Ah, dammit. I have got to stop being so predictable," she heard Hiroshi grunt after Miroku let out a whoop and a 'cocksucker.'

The red-head hardly noticed when she wrapped her arms around his neck and used it as leverage to slide herself over the back of the couch to land in their laps.

"Move your legs, _move your legs_!" Hiroshi commanded urgently, back rigid with panic when she half landed on his controller.

"What's the matter, you little bitch?" Miroku taunted with a smirk, craning his neck to look over Julia's head at the screen and automatically lifting his arms so that she could lie down without impeding his ability to play. "Shit, Hiro—I feel like I'm babysitting. Where's your _game_? The only reason I'm not leaving right now is because I don't want to damage our friendsh-oh, you _dirty_ son of a bitch—!"

"Jesus! _Finally_."

"How the fuck did that even _happen_?" he shouted at the screen, flinging a hand violently into the air to gesture at the television from where he sat on the edge of his seat.

"Okay, you don't need to be _that_ surprised," Hiroshi sulked.

"You're still seven kills behind me," Miroku reminded petulantly, slumping back further into the couch.

Hiroshi chuckled, tossing a quick wink at the woman spread across their laps. "Yeah, yeah. It's because you hide like a coward. …Where _are_ you?"

"I think he's on a cliff. …I can see the blue base to his right," Julia murmured thoughtfully.

"_What_? No—Julia, that's _cheating_!" Miroku cried, shoving her off his lap and into the empty space between the two boys. "Whatever—fuck it. Come find me, Hiro, you little bitch. I'll snipe your ass."

"He's going to snipe you, Hiro! Jump! _Jump_!" She tried to grab the controller from the hanyou to press the jump button for him.

"I've got it, Jules—thank you."

"Fucking-_Jules_!" the kitsune snarled, but fired anyway.

"Hah! Missed me."

"You're welcome."

"That's it, Julia." He shoved her forgotten controller back into her hands. "You're entering the game again so that I can find you and slaughter your ass. It'll be a fucking bloodbath."

"That's hardly fair… I can't survive in this game for five seconds when you're _normal_-crazy. Now you have a vendetta against me, too? _Argh_!"

"Fucking bloodbath," he repeated, and Julia resigned herself to die. Many times.

O-O-O-O-O-O

'_Maybe she slipped and knocked her head on the tub?_'

'…_Or maybe she just doesn't hear me because of the loud music,_' Hiroshi responded reasonably as he knocked again on the metal door before him, almost amused by its irrational worrying.

The voice wasn't assuaged. '_For someone so humane and good-natured and shit, you don't seem to be taking this seriously—what if one of those junkie-bastards broke in and turned up the music so the neighbors wouldn't hear her scream?_'

Hiroshi bit back a heavy sigh and offered a tight-lipped smile to one of her shifty-looking neighbors as he made his way out of his apartment and past the patient hanyou. '_For someone so bloodthirsty _and shit_ you don't seem to be taking into account the distinct scent of spilled blood—or lack thereof. And there's no sign of forced entry,_" he continued, jiggling the knob for effect and freezing when it complied and gave way.

'…_This bitch is going to drive us up the fucking wall—In the middle of a fuckin' drug nest, and can't remember to lock the goddamn door… No common sense at all,_' Hiroshi heard it muttering in the distance, as possibilities of her fate ran through his mind. '_If she won't move, maybe we should just kill all the living trash here and solve the problem_.' It decided this was a perfectly acceptable solution, and—satisfied—fell into a thoughtful silence, disturbing visions of its wrath occasionally flashing before the hanyou's eyes.

Still decidedly unhappy and exasperated with this turn of events, Hiroshi pushed the door open and slipped in, closing it behind him. He was relieved to see her in the kitchen alive and well. She was lost in a Prince song as she washed the dishes in the sink, and when she failed to hear or notice him at all, his irritation began to mount. Anyone could have walked in, and she would have been helpless…

"_Believe it or not, I started to worr-eh! Wonderin' if I had enough class—_"

…Alright, that was pretty adorable. He felt a smile threaten his stern frown, and that annoyed him even more. …God, she really was a _horrible_ singer… He absolutely loved it.

Water flew against the cabinets overhead as she swung a sponge-laden hand overhead and began to sway her hips to the music. It was at this exact moment that he realized she was only wearing an old shirt and a pair of boy-shorts with 'Tuesday' written across both cheeks in bold orange lettering.

"—_But it was Saturday Night, I guess that makes it all right—_"

For a long moment, he forgot he was staring. But then he forced his mouth shut into a smirk, and lifted himself onto her counter, pretending that the music wasn't too loud for his sensitive ears. He could be irritated with her in a few minutes, he decided.

'_How long until she realizes we're here, I wonder…_'

'_Not too soon, I hope. I'm liking this view. That _ass_… Those _legs_…_'

Hiroshi cleared his throat before it could continue, and when that failed to get her attention, he coughed. He was expecting it when she let out a silent gasp and whirled around on a heel. One hand slapped over her racing heart when she recognized Hiroshi, and she managed to force a frustrated glare at her guest with the polite smile.

"Good lord, Hiro…"

"I was just wondering if you knew what day it was," he asked her, smile widening into a grin when her scowl crumpled into confusion.

"…Saturday?"

"Just making sure."

"…Okay? How long have you been here?"

"Not long. I didn't mean to intrude—by all means, continue."

It was then that she remembered that she was still in her underwear. Rolling her eyes to distract him from the blood rushing to her face, she threw a dishtowel at him. "Close your eyes, you pervert," she sighed with no real censure—just embarrassment. "As for my underwear—I'm well aware that they say 'Tuesday'."

"Just making sure," he repeated, ignoring her demand and catching a plastic cup that she threw at him.

"You didn't hear me singing, did you?" she asked quietly, watching him with a grimace as she grabbed a pair of shorts from the basket of clean, but still unfolded, laundry and shimmied into them.

There was a sly twinkle in his eye, which warned her of his teasing. "What _singing_?"

"If that's your way of saying 'yes', then I don't think I'll make breakfast for you, you jerk."

"Not really in the mood for cold pop-tarts anyway." He caught the egg timer before it could connect with his face. "If you're aiming to hit me, a car manual might be better suited for the job."

"Jerk… I thought you had to study for your finals today."

He set the timer firmly on the counter and tapped a claw against it thoughtfully. "I do. I did. I'm taking a break. A much needed one, I think."

She sighed and shook her head as she grabbed the dish towel again and proceeded to finish drying the dishes. "Hiroshi. It's not even ten in the morning yet. How long have you been up?"

"A while."

"Work?"

"Yeah. I couldn't go back to sleep, so I just studied."

"If you keep that up, you're going to stress yourself out, you know," she told him matter-of-factly, setting down the last pot, and turning to face him. "And then you'll have a nervous breakdown and completely blank and do horribly on the finals."

There was an exaggerated rolling of the eyes that made her glare at him. "Something tells me that that's how _you_ would react to a similar situation. I don't process things the same way."

Her baleful glower did not seem to make him contrite in the least—he seemed just as quietly confident as always. "Oh, that's right. I forgot you weren't human for a moment, oh glorious and all-powerful Hiroshi."

He tried to bite back a knowing smirk at her innocent 'human' comment and caught the packet in a metallic wrapper as she tossed it to him. He sliced it open and broke off a piece of blueberry pop-tart. "Thanks."

She pulled another packet out of the box, and tore it open with a shrug of forced nonchalance. "It's not the best source of energy, I know, but food is food, right?"

"Of course," he allowed, watching as she took a bite of the fruit filled pastry and seemed to consider it with some embarrassment. "…I was just teasing about the pop-tarts, you know. I do enjoy and appreciate them."

She looked up from her breakfast to offer him an indulgent smile, informing him that she knew he was just being nice. "You're sweet, but I'm well-aware that my pantry and fridge aren't going to impress many people. But I'm not really trying to impress anyone, I guess." Her eyes were suddenly on him, looking at, into, and through his pleasant and neutral expression, and her eyebrows lowered in concern. "You look really tired, Hiroshi," she said at last, voice low as she observed him. For too long, the man had been balancing too much—a job that kept him up, a family that loved him too much to let him bury himself under work, a friend so lonely that, knowing all of this, she still forced frequent time-consuming visits on him and various members of his family… And not for the first time, she was oh-so-glad that his relatively demanding schooling was drawing to a close even as this week trickled away. Only one week and four exams left to go—

'_And that will be that much less he has to worry about._'

'_And that will be that much more free-time he has._'

'_And_ _that will be that much more free-time he can spend with me._'

He snorted once, a humorless smile in place as he fought to distract her disconcerting and prying gaze from stripping him bare before her. "Is that a polite way of telling me that I look like shit?" He didn't wait for her response before grabbing a thread of his remembered irritation. "By the way, you _are_ aware that this apartment building isn't the safest place, right?"

Exasperation was evident on her features and she seemed to stare at the ceiling of her kitchen to draw patience from it. "Oh, Hiroshi, would you just come off it already? I'm _not_ moving."

"So you've said. Making it necessary to lock your door—at the very least."

She seemed to consider this, lips pursing. "Oh. I didn't know it wasn't locked."

And he was very clearly irritated, a scowl wrinkling as his eyebrows struggled to reach each other. She nearly giggled at that image. "That," he said, "is exactly what I _didn't_ want to hear."

She did laugh at that, brushing away his concern with an easiness that baffled him. That she wasn't taking this seriously made him even more irritated. "You're such a mother hen, Hiro."

'_What?_' he thought, surprised by the term that he associated with his mother. '_What?_' But she continued.

"You worry too much, you know? Not everyone's out to get me."

"That may be," he allowed indulgently, "but when you live in an area that harbors a concentrated crime rate, then the chances of you falling victim to a crime rise exponentially."

She frowned petulantly, fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt as she struggled for a rebuttal. "_And_ I can take care of myself."

He looked doubtful.

She looked insulted. "I _can_," she insisted. "What do you think I've been doing every Tuesday and Friday? I've been getting better in my kickboxing class—ask Mimi!"

His arms uncrossed and he straightened as an idea flashed across his mind and took hold. He heard delicious chuckling buried in the recesses of his brain, but ignored them. "Yeah? Show me. Keep me from completely incapacitating you in five seconds, and I will never mention your living situation again."

If he could worm his way under her skin, if he could make her _aware_ and _cautious_, then maybe he wouldn't feel so guilty about possibly scaring her. It was manipulative and it would make her doubt her own ability to defend herself, but it was worth it, he decided, even as a chilling ping of regret shot through him. He couldn't help but feel like he'd be stripping her of some of the carefree happiness that made her…_her_.

There was a moment of silence in which she floundered under his words. "_What_?" she demanded, disbelieving.

"I'll attack you. Do what you can to keep me from pinning you down," was his easy, unruffled reply. "Ready?"

"_No_, no—_not_ ready," she hurried, still disbelieving. "_What_?" she repeated, and he chuckled. After a few more moments, she stopped gaping and stole the scowl he wore only a minute before. "Fine. But don't be a jerk about it if I accidentally hurt you."

"You won't hurt me," he assured her, and rather than assured, she was aggravated. She considered smacking him with the pot she'd just washed, and as though he could read her thoughts, he smirked at her.

She nearly stamped a petulant foot. "_Ugh_! Don't look so satisfied. You haven't won yet. And even if you do, you're a lot bigger and stronger, _and_ you've been trained. So it's not really fair…"

His small smile was meant to comfort. "I'm not going to hurt you, Jules. I know what I'm doing. But realize that's one luxury that won't be afforded you by an intruder or mugger."

She sighed, and nodded, and prepared to be completely humiliated in her own kitchen. When she'd woken up this morning, she'd not expected that her day would take this sort of turn…

It didn't take him long, of course—not even the full five seconds. More like two.

He'd grabbed her balled fist—which was oh-so-tiny in his own iron clasp, upset her balance with a quick and firm hand to her oh-so-thin shoulder, and twisted her oh-so-fragile arm, pinioning it against her back as she reflexively spun, bowed over and was pressed against the counter top to keep her arm from breaking. Her other hand held flat against the surface near her face. She hovered somewhere between discomfort and mild aching, but none of that mattered because he was pressed against her, bent over her, his hair cutting off her view of the coffee pot that—from this angle—_seriously_ needed cleaning.

'_Oh no oh no oh no oh no ohnoohnoohno—'_

And for the second time within the minute, she pondered over her expectations of the day when she'd woken an hour earlier, and how this current situation had not been foreseen at all.

She was distracted from the deep ache below her stomach by hot breath against her ear. "You know what I do for a living, Julia. I know _exactly_ what people are capable of, and it's horrifying. I'm not asking you to live in a bubble. I just want you to _lock your door_. Alright?"

Guilt bit into him with sharp teeth when he felt the discomfort rolling off her in waves, heard the quick beating of her heart, the harsh, quick breaths, saw the frantic darting of her eyes, but then he smelled it—

Her scent _spiked_, brutally knocking the breath out of him. The thickened, heady honey clogged his nostrils and tried to drug him.

Distantly, Julia realized that her arm was no longer being twisted up awkwardly, but his fingers still incased hers, steel that refused to give or take, and _god_, his skin was so hot—she was burning away. She could hear the distant roar and rumble of flames through fog, and it took her a moment to realize the sound was somehow coming from him through the blood thundering in her ears. She felt him vibrating against her.

'_Weird'_ was quickly immolated, and she realized, terrified, exactly how much _felt_, _wanted_…

_And oh, she hoped—_

And then he released her, and his warmth was gone, as he took a step back. Slowly, she straightened and turned, but, face-flushed and wide-eyed, she was having trouble meeting his eyes.

'_What?_' ran through her mind again.

As far as Hiroshi—hungry expression hidden by years of self-control and hands still shaking—was concerned, he might have just made a grievous miscalculation, and his little experiment had backfired rather spectacularly. It was clear to him that he really hadn't known what he was doing after all. His brain had been white fuzz blocking out the urgings that he was certain it was uttering. And now she was clearly uncomfortable and unsure of what to say or do—

_And oh, he hoped_—

But she remained still, a deer in headlights, not meeting his gaze least he be able to read the thoughts bursting like fireworks inside her head. Remembering, mercifully, the entire purpose of the exercise, he broke the silence and ended her misery. "Alright?" he repeated as though nothing had happened, voice dry and ragged and breathing unsteady as he struggled to reign in his body.

Julia found herself unable to speak, and, still face-flushed and wide-eyed, offered a jerky nod. They stood there silent for a long, long minute, tense and embarrassed and recovering, and then a tremulous smile, and Hiroshi released the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

"Your already cold pop-tarts are getting colder," she pointed out, suddenly shy, and he chuckled.

"So they are."

The moment ended, and they were able to use those words as a bridge leading them back into familiar territory, and they didn't know whether to be grateful or miserable at the thought of the possibilities they left behind them. They settled on opposite ends of the couch, stretching out and trying to covertly study each other.

And then she helped him study for his finals, reading from the careful notes he'd taken and brought along while she toyed absently with the leather thong that he always wore around his ankle.

And then he helped her rehearse her lines, slowly realizing exactly how good she was at manipulating her emotions when she wanted.

And then they napped on her overstuffed sofa, feet in each other's faces, but bodies and blood still singing.

* * *

_**May**_

"Oi, wench," Inuyasha hissed, poking his mate's arm to grab her attention as yet another name was called, yet another yet another black gown was torn from the fold, and yet another handshake, another diploma given, another name called.

"Hm?" The miko stopped fanning herself with the program as she observed her mate squirming uncomfortably. He was flexing his claws in his lap as though they ached to get at something.

"Center of my back," he told her. "This fucking suit won't let my arms reach. Will you scratch it?" He couldn't stop the satisfied whimper that escaped as his mate reached behind him without a word and soothed the itch, a smile touching her lips when his leg jerked once in a knee-jerk reaction. "How much longer?" he asked for the fiftieth time since they'd first taken a seat, and her smile faded irritably.

There was a heavy sigh from the man behind him—Souta the grown-up, the husband, the father, the overseer of Kagome's old shrine. "This brings back memories, eh, Inuyasha?" he asked dryly, quietly.

"Must have repressed them," the hanyou quipped before the tai youkai beside him cleared his throat once, stoic message clear and eyes never straying from the podium before them. "Keh!" was his response.

The only break in the monotony was when Hiroshi's name was called, and—much to the disdain of Sesshoumaru and the delight of Kimiko—Shippou, Eri and Kannon broke out the congratulatory cat-calls as he accepted the leather folder representing his diploma and shook the dean's hand. There was the furious snapping of photos being taken as Kimiko rose to her feet, making use of her new and beautiful Christmas present from her parents.

Beside her, Julia heaved the deep sigh of relief that she was sure Hiro felt as he walked off the stage, one part of his life completed and behind him. She heard a quiet sniff and looked over to see Inuyasha, eyes still on his oldest son, drape an arm around his bright-eyed wife, squeeze a shoulder in a way that touched and soothed even Julia, a spectator.

One more hour, and it was over, and Hiroshi was being pulled into a fierce hug by his oddly quiet mother. After a moment, Inuyasha cut in with a wink at his son. "Oi, let the pup breathe, 'Gome."

And she did with a quick kiss on his cheek. "I can't tell you how proud I am of you, Hiroshi."

"You can try," he teased, trying to coax her out of the thick emotion and seriousness that enveloped her, and was pleased with himself with she gave a short laugh and one last squeeze as his father clasped his shoulder.

"Not bad, pup." There was a slight, easy smile, a true smile rather than his casual smirk, and the young hanyou felt it just as heavily as his mother's near-tears pride.

Hiroshi nodded, sweeping his cap off and hanging it on his newly arrived sister, who grinned and clutched it closer to her head before wrapping him in a one-armed hug. "Thanks."

"You gonna miss it?"

There was a dignified snort, and Sesshoumaru gave his nephew an appraising stare. "I see no reason why he should," he began, and Inuyasha rolled his eyes. "This entire endeavor was rather pointless and frivolous, was it not?" He pointedly ignored the miko's withering glare as he considered his still-smiling nephew for a long moment. "However, since it is done now and there can be no help for the time wasted, I am pleased with your status as summa cum laude."

In her head—and still only just barely acquainted with the tall and impossibly daunting and formal man—Julia finished his sentence in her head: '_It is the least you could do for inconveniencing me as you saw fit to do._'

"You are such a pompous ass," Kagome sighed, and Julia, who had been watching and waiting, couldn't stifle her snickering quickly enough.

Hiroshi grinned at her where she stood beside Miroku, and Sesshoumaru could only look both exasperated and extremely bored at the same time, which was a feat in and of itself.

As he strode over to them, he was already unzipping the baggy gown which attracted heat like fresh asphalt, and, playfully whopping Kannon upside the head as he passed, he dumped the quickly folded heap in his arms. "Put it on," he teased, "It will be the closest you'll ever come to graduating."

"Fucking hilarious, you douche."

"Indeed."

Miroku was grinning sheepishly at him as he scratched the back of his head. "Congratulations, Hiro. You considering going on for your doctorate?" He chuckled when his grandfather graced him with a glower.

"Now that you mention it…" He turned his gaze to the woman at his side, amused at her silence. "You're not going to congratulate me, Jules?" he asked, feigning disappointment.

"So you're summa cum laude," she sniffed, waving a faux-dismissive hand at him. "I could have done better." He laughed when she grinned at him. And before she could talk herself out of it, she tugged a lock of his hair and reached up on her tip-toes to quickly kiss his cheek, startling him. "Congratulations. But don't let it go to your head or anything."

And she was rewarded with that strange look that he afforded her every now and then—the one that made her think he was seeing her for the first time, or had something he desperately wanted to tell her—something he'd just remembered, if only this was the right place and time... And his quiet and sincere 'thank you' was worth the small tragedy that Kimiko had seen—as had everyone else—and refused to let the subject drop until Kannon, of all people, took pity on them and forcefully removed her from Julia's vicinity.

O-O-O-O-O-O

"Teach me how to cook?"

Hiroshi spared her a glance as he rolled the sushi she'd been craving all day. She was still wearing her on-set makeup, much heavier than he was used to, and the fake bruises around her throat—yellowing purple imprints of large fingers—were unsettling. Today was the first time he had even seen her since Sunday breakfast five days earlier. She was busier these days, and to be honest, he missed his occasional visits to the diner.

And to be honest, she missed them, too. And Anne. She missed Anne a lot.

"Cook what?" he asked casually, grabbing a knife, and making quick work of the long rolls.

Thin fingers sneakily snatched a piece from under the knife, and she ignored his '_Careful_!' "I don't know… _Anything_, I suppose."

"You're obviously not ready to handle knives," he muttered with a pointed look, and she laughed carelessly.

"Oh, please. I was totally safe. And you should have known I was going for a piece. Anyway…I think I want to learn how to make something simple and sweet, rather than something filling… We can make it after we eat the sushi. What about brownies?"

"Like…box-mix brownies?"

She grinned cheekily. "I brought the mix... If you're interested."

"You carried a box of brownie mix to work with you today…" He comment wryly, and she shrugged. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I figured you could help me make them. They were all liquid-y last time I attempted it. …It's been a long time since I've had brownies," she told him sadly, blinking back what he _knew_ were fake tears. He was annoyed with himself when they wormed their way beneath his skin, the salt of them stinging muscle and bone.

With a ruffled frown, he waved an agitated hand at her. "Okay, enough with the theatrics. Leave that at work. We'll make the brownies." Her grin was triumphant, as was her sly wink. "…As long as you wash that makeup away. I keep thinking those bruises are real."

A hand rose instinctively to her throat where his eyes rested, almost expecting it to be sore to the touch. "Oh, I forgot about them… We filmed the scene with the hunter-assassin today. It was pretty exciting."

"Did you get to kick his ass for those bruises?"

Her giggles were pleasant, and he passed her another piece of sushi, watched her pop it into her mouth. "Haven't you read the fairy-tale? He's actually a good guy. Snow White doesn't _escape_—she's completely helpless. But he can't bring himself to kill her."

"How noble…"

She made a face at him. "He risks his life by disobeying the queen's orders, I'll have you know."

"Alright. …I _suppose_ I can forgive him," he teased

"You're so _magnanimous_." At his raised eyebrow, she added, "I learned that word from Sesshoumaru."

"…You should stop listening to anything my family says."

"Probably. I'm sure that at least half of what Kannon tells me about you is a lie. Or at least greatly exaggerated."

"…I'm scared to ask."

"You should be. By the way, I'm going to take one of your undershirts so I don't get my dress messed up, okay?"

"Yeah. We're only making brownies, though… Are you expecting them to end in a disaster?" he asked, amusement evident as she eyed his nice button-up that he'd worn to work and had yet to change out of.

"You should change, too.

With a quick smirk, she turned on her heel and went to retrieve the box from her purse, and returned minutes later fresh-faced and bruise-less to find him sitting on his couch in the living room.

"I'm glad you could find my underwear drawer," he drawled, eyeing the familiar boxers, which she'd managed to keep from falling off her hips by rolling the elastic waistband several time.

She looked down at the boxers—black with little white terriers all over them—and grinned all-too-innocently. "Oh. By the way, do you mind if I borrow some of your boxers, too?"

"Yes."

She frowned and looked down at the boxers again. "Really? But they're so _cute_!"

With a smirk, he rolled his eyes. "Mimi's doing."

"Your sister buys your underwear for you?"

He could hear the barely concealed laughter and judgment in her voice, and frowned at her. "Mimi took my credit card on a shopping spree last year because she thought I was—and I quote—'_boring'_."

"I trust her judgment."

"Ouch, Jules. But I was teasing—_yes_, you may wear my boxers," he told her magnanimously, holding out the plate of sushi for her as she took her seat beside him on the couch.

"Are you sure? I could take them off," she drawled airily, examining her nails, "but then you'd get all weird on me, and those brownies would never get made because of all the '_tension_.'"

He laughed outright, startled. It was the first time either of them had verbally acknowledged the pent-up sexual frustration that came and went between them. And that she brought it up… Well, he wasn't sure if he was uncomfortable or relieved or merely entertained by that, and it took him a moment to smoothly recover. "That…would be a shame," he admitted at last. "But by all means—if you'd be more comfortable without them, I wouldn't object, regardless—"

She was all too happy to throw a pillow at his smug face, trying and failing to hide her own smile. She snagged another piece of the rolled sushi and popped it thoughtfully into her mouth. "I see I'm not the only one that's been taking lessons from Kannon…" She trailed off as she turned her attention to the news covering a story they were both familiar with—one only all _too_ familiar.

It had been exactly two months since the last Lullaby Slaying, and Hiroshi felt his blood freeze in his body when the reporter claimed to possess "starling and disturbing new images" of the murders. The screen flashed away from the reporter to a warning of graphic images that would follow.

"_The following images are not advised for the viewing of children or the faint of heart._"

"Oh, no," he murmured, and Julia's eyes darted to him before watching his face darken, harden angrily before her very eyes. Curious and nervous as to how bad the images must have been to cause such a noticeable and true reaction to slip past his trademark pleasantness, she turned back to the screen.

And recoiled with an audible and inarticulate moan as her hand flew to her mouth. She'd been doused with cold water-she was sure of it. All of the warmth sucked from her skin the moment she laid eyes on the television.

A black and white photo of a young woman with her eyes gouged out, leaning and bleeding against the brick wall she was propped against, held up by a leash of her own organs that had been wrapped around a lantern that hung on the brick above her.

Julia had never before seen evil. Real and actual evil. She didn't think it was _possible_ to see.

Until now.

Another picture—a small boy—a child, arms torn from his body and head twisted grotesquely 180 degrees from where it was supposed to rest on a normal, living body. Which he wasn't—not anymore.

Her mouth was filled with cotton, which seemed to stuff her ears. She didn't hear the trill of Hiroshi's cellphone. Just stared.

Another picture. A teenage girl, jaw so badly broken and dislocated, she resembled the figure in Munch's "The Scream," her severed head propped on a tent of her dismembered limbs.

Another picture.

Another picture.

Another-

"I thought we agreed that those pictures weren't to be released," Hiroshi growled into his cell phone, rising to his feet and walking behind the couch. "For God's sake, Rei—even their _parents_ didn't see… What the _fuck_ are they doing all over the news?"

"_I know, I know—Father's furious. He's on the phone with the station's executive as we speak._" Hiroshi's eyes darted back to the television screen, but then found Julia—horrified and unable to tear her eyes away from the brutality. He reached over the back of the couch to grab the remote and promptly turned it off, but she didn't seem to notice.

He frowned.

He could hear Rei's television over the phone. The reporter was bumbling and floundering an apology to the audience, admitting that the photos had been pulled due to "their sensitive nature."

"_They stopped showing them. Father wants you to find out who released the images to the press. So…that's what you'll be doing tomorrow._"

Something was nagging at him, eating at the corner of his conscience, but he couldn't figure out what… "Do you need me to come in tonight?"

"_You came in last night, Hiroshi. And the night before. Tonight, you're resting, understood?_"

Irritation shot through him. "I thought we were through with this pampering-bit now that I'm out of school—"

"_Christ, Hiro,_" Rei snapped. "_It's not pampering. We are legally obligated to let you sleep every now and then, so that you don't, you know, sue us or collapse in exhaustion. This can wait until the morning._"

And then Hiroshi froze when—with sudden clarity—that nagging feeling sharpened into focus. "Rei…"

"_Yes?"_

"Those weren't the pictures I took…"

There was a pause, and then a sharp "_What?_ _Are you sure?_"

A shot of irritation—"Yes, I'm _sure_," he snapped. "Do you have any idea how many times I've looked at them? How carefully I've studied them? They weren't my photos. Someone else took those." He winced when Julia seemed to startle herself back into the real world with a single full-body shudder. She turned blue eyes iced with atrocities on him, lips parted in a grimace.

"…_Fine. We'll discuss it further tomorrow. I'll have Ryuu look into it for now._"

With an aggravated sigh, Hiroshi recognized it as the end of their conversation and with a reluctant 'bye,' snapped the cell shut.

"Is _that_ what you're doing?" Julia asked quietly, gesturing absently toward the dark television.

He sighed and took his seat on the couch to appraise her. He could practically feel her revulsion. "Jules…" he reminded her softly, "You've known for a long time what I do."

"But not really," she breathed, her arms tingling and cold as she stared at the blank television screen, as though the images were still being shown. "I didn't know it was that…horrible… Those poor _kids_," she choked, lamely.

All that he saw, all that he dealt with and hid from her… She was just now beginning to understand the scope of it all.

He could see this sudden dawning all take place on her open face and felt a sudden and intense loathing for the news station. Julia was his breath of fresh air. She was happy and entertaining and sweet and perceptive, but not overly so. She'd been untainted by his work—she was _his_ to enjoy. And he was hesitant and unwilling to ever talk to her about work or things that might spoil and jade her, just as Inuyasha never brought news of his own work home. It was too much, and if she knew, then he couldn't pretend or pretend to forget.

And what she'd seen just now—that was _so much worse_ than anything he could have told her. Another shot of unfamiliar venomous hatred, completely independent of the voice, ripped through him jagged. He considered getting the reporter fired out of sheer spite, but then Schubert flowed through his mind, and he released all of that poisonous anger with a long sigh.

He cleared his throat, and blue eyes shot to him guiltily. He looked nervous as he stared at the abandoned plate of sushi. "I know it's rough, but someone has to do it. Now…can we..._not_ talk about this right now? That's my work. I don't want it…_mixing_ with my life at home."

She released a deep breath of air into this new and unwanted brand of tension between them. "Of course." And then she offered him a strained smile before it morphed into a true one when he tilted the corner of his lips into an encouraging half-smile.

"Let's make your brownies—you're already dressed for it and everything, after all."

"But _you're_ not. Sure you don't want to change out of that nice shirt?"

He rose to his feet and offered her a hand up, which she accepted. He decided to swiftly and selfishly destroy all remnants of the brutal images from her mind by distracting her. "And let you see my body?" He shot her a doubtful, hesitant look. "I don't know if that's very wise… You might get drool into the brownie batter…" He chuckled and shied away from her when she ripped her hand from his to smack his arm.

"Now I _know_ you're quoting Kannon," she grouched with no real censure, biting her lips to keep from breaking into a grin. "Did you two switch bodies while I wasn't looking?"

"If I think I'm in danger of getting dirty, I'll just use you as a shield."

"You're so sweet."

"Thank you."

She followed him into the kitchen with her box-mix, and watched him as he rummaged through the fridge for eggs and grabbed the oil. "Will you go ahead and fill a measuring cup with a third of a cup of water? Check the cabinet overhead," he told her, motioning behind her. Then everything was set beside the electric mixer and the oven set to preheat.

She lifted herself upon the counter top, and leaned over to look into the mixing bowl as he made quick work of opening the bag of mix with a discrete claw. "This looks really easy," she commented.

"It is. Want to pour in the mix?" She grabbed the clear plastic bag he offered her and promptly dumped it into the bowl with a "fwoomp," stirring chocolate dust into the air. She gave the hanyou a cursory glance when he turned away to have a coughing fit as the dust made its way up his nostrils and down his throat. "You okay there, Hiro?"

He waved her concern away, still coughing, and with a shrug, she continued with her work, grabbing and cracking one of the eggs while she waited for her friend to finish composing himself.

He returned to her side a moment later, looking cautious as he approached the mixer to add the oil and water. She worked on the other egg, tossing the shells into the now-empty box and wiping her fingers clean on the damp rag Hiroshi held out to her.

"Alright, now there's a switch on the other side of the mixer with different speeds—"

He didn't get any further before she gasped and was lunging over the top of the mixer seated beside her with the exclamation of—"I want to do it!"

There was a sudden moment of clarity, in which Hiroshi knew what was going to happen before it ever did. But his tongue wasn't fast enough to stop her from yanking the switch on the mixer from 'off' to 'beat the hell out of.'

With an inward sigh, he resigned himself to a mess he hadn't initially bargained for. Batter flew, and the woman was caught off guard.

"_Arrrgh_!"

She had instinctively pulled away from the mixer in shock, and now she fumbled to reach over the appliance and grab the switch again as batter streaked her tee with each beat. "Oh no, oh no! I'm so sorry, Hiro—I didn't mean-!" She was panicking, and still hadn't managed to turn the mixer off. In a single, deft stride, he had reached her and quickly pulled the switch back to 'off.'

He hovered there, reaching over her, and there was a long moment when Julia was too scared to look at his face and see the anger and irritation written there. It was suddenly clear to her that she had very little common sense because she really should have seen that coming…

It was uncanny how relieved she was when she heard his soft chuckles, and as he straightened back up before her, she risked a peek at his face. It was genuine amusement, allowing her to find her backbone and puff herself up with hot air.

A few flecks of chocolate batter were on her cheeks and nose, and he wasn't sure he wanted to tell her. Not," she said, "a word."

But he ignored her, eyes crinkling attractively as he smiled. "Maybe I should cook from now on."

She heaved a sigh that was accompanied with a wide grin when her eyes fell to his cheek. "You have a streak of chocolate…" She looked like she wanted to reach out and wipe it away for him, and there was a shocking moment where he fiercely wished she would. Her hand was in the air, hesitating—in the midst of a tug of war between his cheek and her chest. He decided to end her turmoil when color started filtering into her face.

With a sure finger, he wiped it away and quickly licked it off, and made a show of considering it carefully, even as she grabbed the clean wooden spoon that had been sitting beside her, dipping it into the batter to sample it. "Well… At least it tastes good."

She stuck the edge of the spoon into her mouth. "_Really_ good," she corrected. "It's worth the mess, I believe."

"I imagine it is," he surmised, dryly amused, "when it is not your kitchen and clothes at stake. …Perhaps I should have changed after all."

She couldn't help the peals of bright laughter that bubbled out of her throat, and he couldn't help it. She was still laughing when he held her face with the flats of long fingers, and before she knew what was happening—before he could talk himself out of it, his lips were on hers, a soft pressure that managed to jolt through her entire body. She went still against him, eyes wide and staring at him as he held her pressed against him. And then his lips began to move over hers, slowly, carefully, and she wasn't even aware her eyes had drifted shut. Or that the batter-covered spoon had slipped from her loose fingers to fall to the floor, flecks of brownie mix landing on his pants leg, the cabinets, and of course the brick ground.

The voice was startled into silence by his bold and unplanned move—though he had a strong feeling that it wasn't upset with this occurrence by any means.

He smirked against her, and she almost couldn't handle it. If only he'd warned her…maybe she could manage to keep up, but… She stopped thinking and focused on the warmth of his lips.

It was soft; it was chaste; it was electric, and it was the single best kiss she'd ever had in her life, even though she was catatonic for half of it. She was glad she was already sitting; her legs dangled bonelessly above the floor.

When he pulled away, his lips were still grazing hers, barely touching at all—it was torture. And when he spoke, the words fell against her. "I'm sorry," he murmured, not sounding very sorry at all. She would have grinned if she wasn't so stunned and dazed.

Her eyes were wide again as they met his, and they watched each other, waiting for a long, _long_ moment. Her lips moved against his as she breathed, "Don't be."

He laughed, and she shivered. "That was a lie," he admitted with a grin, eyes a rich honey color.

"…The best one I've ever heard."

He chuckled when he saw that she was still staring down towards his mouth, a knuckle grazing her cheek wiping away some batter before he flattened his hands against her again. "You taste like chocolate."

"…That sounds much sexier than the fish I just ate," she informed him, and they broke into simultaneous grins. And then he kissed her again—

-but she was ready for it this time. She moved against him, her hands clinging to the balls of his shoulders as though she were a chain lock—giving him only so much room to pull away from her before he was anchored. Everything about her was suddenly in tune with him, and she even thought she could feel the blood rush under the skin of his shoulder through the fabric of his shirt. Everything about him was gentle-almost unbearably so, as he gauged her reaction, tested his own, experimented with the feeling of soft skin on skin.

It amazed him that something so simple and innocent could hold so much _meaning _and _emotion_, and he found himself in danger of being swept away into dangerous territory.

And when he released her, she realized that she'd gotten the chocolate from her hands all over the sleeves of his shirt. "Oops."

"It's fine," he told her, claws dragging down her arms to hold her wrists to the counter.

"Maybe you should wash it before it stains…"

"Julia," he teased against soft lips, "are you trying to get my shirt off?"

"I see you without your shirt all the time, moron. …Though it couldn't hurt." She leaned forward shyly to kiss his bottom lip, looking up into his dark eyes when a growl broke free. She recognized it as the same wild sound he'd made after her impromptu self-defense course the month before.

"I don't know how you do that," she told him pulling back to meet his eyes, "but I really, _really_ like it."

He laughed and placed one last, lingering kiss on her forehead. "What about the brownies?"

"I don't really care."

He looked pleased with himself, eyes twinkling at her, though his smile was small now. "All that trouble you went through to make them?"

"Now I know you're being sarcastic," she informed him flatly, tossing curls over her shoulder.

"A little, I suppose. Since we've already got the batter prepared, I'm just going to dump them in the pan and put them in the oven."

The silence stretched on between them as she watched him work. He was nothing like her, really. He was so efficient and could be so…to the point. And she still wasn't sure she really knew him. There were things he kept from her. She knew this, of course. And he knew she knew.

It was strange, though. She still felt like she knew him almost better than anyone else—save Miroku, maybe. When it was just the two of them, or three if Miroku was there, he acted vaguely different. More relaxed, switching from open to guarded depending on his moods and the topic of conversation. These last few months, especially, she realized. There had been a noticeable change in how he acted around her—petty, bolder, softer…less automatic and not so..._perfect _as their relationship began to morph into something yet undefined.

"So…" she asked him, as he finished spreading out the batter and opened the oven door, "is this what I think this is?"

"And what do you think this is?"

With a frown, she realized he wasn't going to make this any easier for her. "I mean… Do you _like_ me?"

He shot her an exasperated look, straightening to his full height, and closing the oven again. "Oh, come on, Julia. You _know_ I do."

"No, I—it's just, _you_ know…" The downward sloping of his brows told her that he didn't. "I already sleep in your bed sometimes," she murmured, cheeks pinking the tiniest bit. "I mean, well…that kiss didn't exactly feel like a 'we're friends' kind of kiss. I've never had a _friend_ kiss me like _that_."

"Like what?" he asked huskily, and she nearly groaned when she saw the smirk, the wicked gleam in his pretty, pretty eyes. It wasn't fair for eyes to be as pretty as his.

"Hiro…" she warned, suddenly more nervous of him than she'd been in almost a year.

"Like this?" He pressed his lips to hers again, and once her head cleared she once again had to remark on how different he was around her now.

"Yeah," she finally murmured, voice weak. "Like that."

"This was bound to happen, Jules. You know that, right? This has felt like a relationship for months now."

"I, uh…um, y-yeah. I know…"

He chuckled at her, hoisting himself onto the counter beside her, amused when she tensed. "Where's that abrasive confidence I've been dealing with since we met?"

She tossed him a proud glare from the corner of her eye. "_You_ seem to have stolen it from me. Please forgive me if I'm a bit disoriented right now… My best friend just gave me the first kiss…_es_ that I've had in two years."

He nodded slowly as the voice demanded to know who she'd last kissed only to be promptly ignored. "It…may have been a bit…forward of me," he admitted, and she frowned at the humor that he failed to erase from his tone.

"You think? A warning would be appreciated next time."

"Next time?"

Her eyebrows rose, and she blushed uncomfortably. "I…assumed there will be a next time."

"I certainly wouldn't object—_oof_! I don't think that was necessary," he remarked after her careless smack to his stomach.

She was watching him nervously out of the corner of her eye, worrying her bottom lip. "Be serious, Hiro. This is important. You're my _best_ friend—one of my _only_ friends, and I don't know if I want to risk that, so we need to figure this out."

He smiled at her as she approached the part of her brain responsible for panic and hysteria.

"I'm okay with just being friends—I'm _fine_ with that. And I'm fine with being…more than friends. But I can't…do the friends with benefits with you. It's dangerous."

He almost laughed. "Oh?"

The absolute control—or loss of control and the freedom that ensued—made him feel almost giddy. He'd never felt giddy before, as far as he knew, but he was pretty sure this is what it felt like. He was calm, but excited with the possibilities that lay before him, and all because for once in his life, he hadn't bothered restraining himself. He took what he wanted—she made it easy to do so. And not for the first time, he marveled at the effect she had on him.

"Hiroshi." He sobered at the seriousness in her voice, edged with fear. "This—" she motioned between them, "—this complicates things. I want to hear from you that it's going to be worth risking our friendship if things—"

"So serious," he interrupted softly, a soothing hand on her cheek, smiling when she melted into his touch. "I think you're over-thinking this, Julia. If we were together, how much would really change? An ease to the tension you mentioned earlier. You've managed to completely insert yourself into my life, and it's easier because of it." He was relieved when the anxiety seeped out of her, and she was able to return his smile bumping her shoulder against his.

"Aww, that's sweet…"

"I know… You're like a worm." The bump was harder and more pointed this time, and he chuckled.

"You're such a jerk."

"I think you told me that the day you broke into my house and decided we were friends, too."

"Aren't you _so_ glad I did that now?"

"Immensely," he drawled dryly, and she beamed at him, nudging his ribs.

"It was the best day of your life—_admit_ it."

He couldn't resist teasing her—it came so naturally. "I don't know about that. _Maybe_ top twenty." At her gasp of faux-outrage, he slid off the counter to stand before her again, reaching out for her jaw and stopping himself before his lips touched hers. And he waited, watching her, and allowing her to close the distance between them and was _so relieved_ when she did, an urgent noise escaping her throat as she carefully held his face to hers. And then his lips were against her ear. "Tonight is one of the better ones, if you want to know the truth."

Breathy laughter escaped trembling lips as she stared absently beyond his shoulder into the living room. "Smooth recovery."

"I thought so, too."

* * *

_Wait—whaaaaat? Not one, not two, but __**several**__ kisses! I hope this new, stronger, more private side of Hiro is believable. A warning: things after this chapter are probably going to happen -very- quickly. I'm not really going to take my time fleshing out and building their relationship as much now in order to focus on other aspects of the story and get the ball rolling. That's the plan anyway. Prepare yourselves for angst!  
_

_Halcyon: golden, __idyllic_

_**A special thanks to Katie, who doggedly read every nonsensical thing I've written for this story so far without complaint and proofread this chapter. Much love and appreciation!**  
_

_

* * *

_

_**Quotes of Randomness:**_

"_All men have a sweetness in their life. That is what helps them go on. It is towards that they turn when they feel too worn out." –Albert Camus_

_**Church**: You know, we could've taken that alien out if I'd have hit him just a few more times._

_**Tucker**: A few more times? How about one time?_

_**Church**: Well, I think I landed at least two or three shots._

_**Tucker**: Yeah, right._

_**Tex**: You didn't hit anything but the wall._

_**Church**: How the hell would you know? You were running straight backwards._

_**Tex**: This is a long range weapon, okay? I need distance to use it effectively._

_**Tucker**: Where were you planning on shooting him from? The fucking moon? If you'd have backed up any further, you woulda had to mail him the bullets!_

_- Red vs. Blue-in honor of the Halo scene._


	12. The Fresh and New

_Chapter 12: The Fresh and New_

_

* * *

_

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha._

_

* * *

_

_Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! They keep me writing, so keep 'em coming. :) _

_And another 'thank you' to Kate for being such a cool beta. _

* * *

_Be careful of the curse that falls on young lovers.  
Starts so soft and sweet and turns them into hunters._

_-"Howl" by Florence and the Machine_

* * *

Sesshoumaru heaved an internal sigh as impatient grumbling started up around the table. When a low sub-sonic warning growl rippled through the air around them, he shot his brother a look, and the growl begrudgingly died, though Inuyasha's black scowl did not. "My apologies. My nephew was finishing up a job when you decided to call this impromptu meeting," he deliberated, somehow managing to keep his lip from curling up in cold indignation.

"We gave you an hour's notice, Lord Sesshoumaru," one of the bolder youkai reminded him, before falling silent when the taisho's piercing and unwavering gaze fell upon him.

"Mm. Yes," he responded after he'd sufficiently subdued the youkai. "And as generous an advance as it was, I'm afraid that a murderous, rebellious youkai holds precedence to even _you_ gentlemen."

There was an offended sniff, and Inuyasha met the chilled grey eyes across from him and glared back, _daring_ the falcon youkai to say something about his son's tardiness.

"You certainly would have us believe that, wouldn't you?" Yagami asked him without tearing his eyes away from Inuyasha's. A cold and tense silence fell across the table, and the hanyou's eyebrows shot up in incredulous shock at the brazen and sarcastic remark.

It was a long, long moment before Sesshoumaru responded with a tight and deadly, "I beg your pardon?"

Chuckling under his breath, his brother shook his head. "Well, fuck, Yagami… When did you decide to dip those shriveled old balls of yours in brass?"

With a sneer of distaste, the elder youkai ignored him and focused his attention on the great Inu no Taisho, pursing his lips as he struggled for contrite respect.

"I merely mean, my Lord, that there has been no lead in the atrociously named 'Lullaby Slayings' in well over two months. And now that there may finally be some activity, you have your head investigator off dabbling with inconsequential and petty crimes that any one of his task force could very well solve themselves in a matter of minutes. And he's been gone for how long now?"

"Petty?" Inuyasha bit out, rising to his feet before the cool fingers shot out to ensnare his arm like iron bands. He looked angrily at Sesshoumaru before gesturing rudely at the youkai. "Fucking…_petty_? You are a bastard and a half, you fucking old bird. Four people are _dead_. _Petty_?"

"Calm yourself, Inuyasha. Yagami is clearly misinformed and over-tired, or he would not dare to question my orders. Isn't that right, Yagami?"

The elaborate mahogany door opened then, and Sesshoumaru's infatuated secretary ushered Hiroshi into the room now focused on him, closing the doors behind him after he nodded his thanks.

"Ah, sorry for the wait. I didn't receive the text until twenty minutes ago." He ignored the irritated frowns all directed toward him and graced them with a friendly enough smile. "I trust you all have been too busy inflicting mental tortures upon me to be overly bored."

"You smell like blood, pup. Trouble?" Inuyasha eyed the sword hanging from his hip—proof that the young and careful hanyou had been in a hurry, since he hadn't bothered to deposit it back in his car.

With a glance at his father, he reached his chair and carefully removed and set aside Gintsume so that he could sit. "The target doubled back to the scene after I sent Takeo and Asa after him. I handled the situation. Now… I assume this meeting was called because of the photos released to the media?" Without waiting for an answer, he opened the file in his hands and removed the stack of enlarged photos it held.

"Indeed. We were wondering how something like this could happen under the watch of the Inu no Taisho and his own."

Hiroshi observed the woman that had spoken—an elderly and mild-mannered earth youkai who was friendly enough outside of this office. "I assure you, they are not our photos. We can only assume, then, that they were taken by the very men we're after." He spread the photos on the table before him and said nothing when a few of the youkai reached out to grab one and examine it.

There were simultaneous gasps of horror and disgust, and the earth youkai thrust the photo she held across the table, away from her.

"They're screenshots," he informed them. "Though the angles may vary depending on the position of the victim, every single one of these photographs is taken from the same height despite the constant change in youkai and hanyou. This confirms what we already knew—this is an organization of some sort, a collaborated effort." He tapped a claw on the desk and watched his father's face, already dreading his reaction as he prepared to reveal his latest discovery. "…It also means that they use a tripod and film each murder."

There was another murmur of discomfort among the older youkai, and Yagami the falcon spoke up—eyes and voice sharp. "And what, exactly, do you believe the purpose of this to be?"

"I believe they are trying to instill fear among the masses. Ghost stories go a long way to escalate their brutal reputation. The release of those stills was nothing more than a shocking reminder meant to terrify. People had heard the stories and read the papers, but they'd never actually _seen_ what they were doing to their victims. I fear they will eventually resort to spreading the actual video footage. With limitless video sharing sites at their disposal, it wouldn't be that difficult, and the results could be…devastating, to say the least."

At his uncle's nod, Hiro took his seat at his father's side.

"And your plan to remedy the situation?"

"We have our most experienced and reliable men trying to track the photos' origins," Rei informed them. "But at this point, there is unfortunately not much to go on. If we can follow this to an actual lead, then it will be through sheer luck on our part and sheer stupidity on theirs."

"I see," Yagami stated, finally setting aside the grotesque screenshot he held. "I do hope—should this lead to another series of murders—that your hounds will learn to better conduct their affairs in order to actually put an end to this."

"His _hounds_?" Inuyasha hissed at his son, who could only sigh and offer his father an empathetic half-smile. No more than five minutes had passed, and everyone's feathers were ruffled, hackles raised, and fifty minutes later, when the meeting came to an edgy conclusion with no real resolution, the tension was only exacerbated. The council members were becoming increasingly restless and bolder and made many faux-innocent insinuations of Sesshoumaru's incompetence until even Inuyasha was offended for his asshole-brother and Rei was barely managing to suppress his quieting growls.

Ultimately, though, no one was brave enough to actually step forward and insult the Taisho or accuse him of anything to his face. And it was this disquieting affect and respect that he commanded that—while shaken—was not yet gone altogether. And once it was, Sesshoumaru decided rising to his feet and dismissing those cowards, then he would simply remind them what he was made of.

That's all there was to it.

People tended to dismiss him more easily behind his back now that the Feudal Era had passed and he was more agreeable with politics, but it wasn't until he was standing before them, proud and unbowed and oh-so-deadly that they swallowed their careless words and fell to their knees before him.

This lack of respect was irritating, but not overly worrying or taxing.

"I can't believe you just sat there and took their shit," Inuyasha informed him as they, too, left the board room.

"Hm," Sesshoumaru mused glancing with disinterest at the hanyou. "And I cannot believe you flashed your claws and told them to 'grow some damn balls and step forward if they think they can do a better job.' …Nevermind. It is not so difficult to believe after all." He smirked when his brother snorted.

"Yeah, yeah. And you're welcome. It's not every day I get to come to your rescue and treat you like the damsel-in-distress that you are." He laughed as deadly growls rumbled around him.

"This Sesshoumaru is hardly a damsel-in-distress, you two-bit cur."

"_Sure_." He winked at Rei, who grinned and shook his head. "Oi, pup—you and Eri still coming for dinner tomorrow? You sounded kind of iffy over the phone the other night."

"Ah, yes. We will. I think Eri has some news, anyway."

There was an undignified, but not unhappy snort from his father, and Inuyasha, sometimes more perceptive than he was given credit for, lifted a brow as a smug smirk tilted his lips. "Is that right?"

With a chuckle, Hiroshi clapped his cousin on the back with a spotless hand that still smelled of blood. "Congrats, Rei. You told Hana yet?"

"We told her a few days ago, after I smelled it. Oi—don't tell Kagome or the others. Eri would _kill_ me if she didn't get to tell them about the pup. _Kill_. In fact, can you just…pretend to be surprised at dinner tomorrow?"

Inuyasha's rolling eyes were undermined by his grin. "Sure thing, pup."

* * *

"Are you sure about this?"

Hiroshi made a show of considering his options, before responding, "You know, you're right. Let's turn around and go get the jeep so that I can drop you off at your empty apartment. I'd much rather enjoy the company and food provided by my family without your imposing presence—ow." He reflexively rubbed the undamaged spot on his arm that she'd punched.

"Jerk," she grouched, trying to soothe her hair into some semblance of order as they continued to walk down the beaten path through the woods. "Your sarcasm has been noted. Who _wouldn't_ want to enjoy my presence?" she teased, grinning up at him as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

His arm bumped against her shoulder. "Who, indeed?"

"But I mean… Hmm… What if they know?"

He looked confused. "What _if_ they know?" he repeated.

"Then they'll _know_," she moaned, grabbing at her face with both hands, mortified. "Mimi will spend the _entire_ night rubbing it in my face—oh _God_! And the _jokes_ Kannon will make…"

"Hey," he murmured with a smile and another shoulder bump, "reign in that imagination before you work yourself into a frenzy, hm? If you don't want them to know, then don't tell them. It's not a big deal if you're not ready. Besides—I'm pretty sure that tonight's dinner isn't going to be focused on us."

She stopped just before they'd stepped out of the trail and into the clearing that his parents' house was settled in.

"How do I look?" she asked, picking at the pink cotton summer dress she donned, and he couldn't help but be further endeared to her by her newfound nervousness.

"You look beautiful—as always. And would you relax? How many times have you eaten dinner with my parents?"

She stamped an agitated foot and flung her arms in a childish manner. "I _know_. I don't know why it feels like I'm meeting them for the first time. …I'm sorry. Just give me a second to calm down." She finally peeked up at him through her bangs. "And thank you for the compliment. You look pretty dashing, yourself. As always."

"You know, I've had several women tell me that. However, when coming from your mouth, I find it more acceptable."

The look she gave him told him she was distinctly un-amused. "You're so funny," she informed him dryly.

"However, you _are_ the first woman to tell me that."

"I can only imagine."

With a gentle smile, he leaned down to press his lips against her forehead, breath stirring bangs. "Come on, Jules. We'll be late if I allow you to stay here long enough to list all of my positive attributes."

She smiled sweetly and looped her arm through his, effectively pulling him into the clearing after her. "I'm sure we'll already be a little late just trying to squeeze that ego of yours through the doorframe."

"Don't worry. My uncle should be along shortly. He'll be more than willing to list some of my shortcomings and shrink it back down to a manageable size."

She fell silent at his side as the continued toward the warm yellow house, a few cars parked in the driveway now. "What about Miroku?"

"He'll be here, too. Later, though. He's working late tonight."

"No—I mean, when do we tell him? You know, about us?"

He sent her an incredulous glance. "What do you mean, when? I already told him—he's Miroku. Was I not supposed to?"

She looked surprised, but not unhappy. "No, no—I'm glad you told him. What did he say?"

The hanyou snorted and smiled. "Something along the lines of 'Bout damn time,' but I believe he was predicting what my father would say."

With a giggle, she reached over to pluck a snagged leaf from his hair. "So…he's okay with it then?

"I think he's suspected for a while… Why wouldn't he be okay with it?"

"He's your best friend, Hiro. I just don't want to be seen as the Yoko Ono of this friendship." She looked horrified for a second before she whirled around to grasp his shirt. "We absolutely _cannot_ cancel Friday night Halo. I will _not_ be the Yoko Ono of this friendship, Hiroshi Takenawa."

With a snort, he pried her fingers from shirt and looped them through his arm again, pulling her forward. "I wouldn't dream of putting that on you, you drama queen."

They had just opened the door, when a tiny foot flew out of nowhere making contact with Hiroshi's shin before giggles filled the air and the perpetrator—an all-too-pleased Hana—hid behind Julia's legs, depending on the surprised human to protect her from Big Bad Hiro.

"Ah—You've done it now, Hana" he growled with a smirk at the face peeking around Julia's hip. He began to prowl towards them as Julia held her arms out to keep him at bay and steered them into the house.

"Run, Hana!"

With a squeal, the little girl propelled herself away from the woman's legs and ran to find Kannon, her next shield. Hiroshi looked amused as he continued to prowl in their direction, the girl now disappearing into the living room and Julia still blocking his path.

"You really think you can stop me?"

"Well, I can certainly try. You're not so tough, Hiro," she challenged, even as Hana snuck her head back around the corner.

"Oh, really. This is interesting. Considering it took me _how long_ to bend you over that count—"

"Ugh. You _never_ let things go, do you?"

There was a childish shriek that announced Hana's arrival as she launched herself at Hiroshi a second time, collapsing in giggles when he caught both her and a shocked Julia, bringing them both to the floor with merciless tickling. "What do you say?" was his smooth question.

"Stop, _stop_," Julia was crying, laughing, trying to ineffectively push a relentless hand from her stomach.

He shook his head with a smug grin, "That's not what you say. Tell her what to say, Hana."

"My Daddy's gonna kick your ass, Hiro!" the little girl managed to choke, still trying to wiggle out of his grasp.

"That's _certainly_ not what you say."

Julia was still batting at his hand, still laughing, still gasping. "I'm going to throw up, Hiro!"

He finally pulled his hands away. "You need to learn to pick your battles."

She sat up with a glare, wiping the tears from her eyes. "You'll learn to pick yours after I kick you between the legs," she shot back, and he chuckled, wrapping his arms around the young youkai when she flung herself at him, tickling him back.

"Mercy! Mercy!" he cried out after a few moments, feigning distress, and the five year old pulled her hands away with a smug and victorious grin.

"You said it, Hiro, and _I_ didn't."

"So I did. You're pretty tough, hm?" He looked up to see his stunned mother starring at the three of them on the floor of the entry way, his father and Rei behind her, looking more than amused.

"Hana told me you were going to kick my ass," was the first thing he said, lips quirked into a smirk directed at Rei. "I'm strangely not worried in the slightest."

"Yes, well… I don't think that's necessary any longer, seeing as my five year old daughter just schooled you. Hey, Julia," he greeted with a smile, which she returned, laughing after he offered his encouragement to fulfill her threat to kick his cousin in the balls.

"I guess someone's in a good mood, huh, pup?" Kagome laughed over her shoulder at her husband, and turned to watch Hiroshi lift himself to his feet, and setting Hana back on the floor as Julia rose to her feet as well.

"It's good to see you cutting loose, sweetie," the miko told him, leaning up to kiss his cheek before turning to the ruffled girl. "I'm fully inclined to believe that his good mood is your doing, Julia. And you look lovely as ever. How's the filming coming along?"

Before Kagome could lead her away to talk some more, Julia jabbed a sharp elbow into the ribs of her romantic interest with a pleasant smile even as he winced away from her. "That's for pulling that stunt while I'm in a dress, you jerk."

Rei laughed as she waltzed away after the miko, talking of enchanted mirrors and one of the dwarves that was just a complete and arrogant bully.

"She certainly seems capable of handling herself," his cousin told him at last, trying not to laugh.

"She'll need to if she's going to hang around Kannon," Inuyasha grunted. "Some of the stuff I caught that pup telling her…" He sighed and shook his head, even as Hiroshi seemed to bristle with surprise, concern, and anger before him.

"Do I need to talk to him?"

His father laughed at the seriousness in his tone. "Nah, pup. I just whopped him. Most of the stuff seemed to be about you, anyway."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better? He's a _degenerate_, Father—"

"Just a _friend_, he says," Inuyasha muttered over his shoulder to Rei, and the youkai tried and failed to stifle his own entertainment.

"Why do I have a feeling that all of those 'whipped' jokes he cracks about me and Eri are about to become really ironic?"

The hanyou managed to control and prevent his blush, and with a frown, pushed past them into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. "I'm afraid that any aspect of a relationship I may have couldn't possibly remove my spine so completely as yours with Eri. Where's Kannon?" he asked, ears perking when he heard the women laughing in the living room.

"Seducing Julia, I'm sure," Rei drawled sarcastically before the front door opened and his parents entered with Shippou and Rin trailing behind them.

All-in-all, it was a good Friday night. Everyone was too happy at the prospect of Eri and Rei's second child. The dinner had been fantastic and familiar and comforting, and even as Julia walked back to Hiro's arm-in-arm with both of the young hanyou for another weekly round of Halo, she felt like she had a real and large family. Like she was a part of their family. One that was quirky, and had dinner together for no reason, and holidays that had no mishaps, and mothers that still remembered their daughters and fathers that weren't neglectful, gambling addicted, alcoholic assholes. A family so full of love that maybe they could share just a little of that with her.

And then she felt guilty and reminded herself that she needed to eat lunch with Jackson soon—maybe tomorrow, and visit their mother.

In the now quiet kitchen, Kagome and Inuyasha stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink washing dishes in companionable silence. But the hanyou was only too aware that Kagome could only go so long without talking. He hid his smirk when, a minute later, she broke that silence.

"Tonight was nice, wasn't it?"

"Sure, wench. The food wasn't bad either."

"Yeah?" She smiled and handed him another plate to dry and set aside. "I'll have to keep the recipe then. It was easy to make. Oh, that reminds me—I'm going to get all of the girls together to take Eri out to lunch soon to celebrate. I'm going to call up Ayame, too."

"So I'm going to have to see Kouga soon? Well, fuck. There goes my good mood."

It had been years and years since the old Northern Taisho had moved his medical practice back to the North, staying in Tokyo long enough to make sure the new taisho—Ronin, the Wolf Prince, could make it without him. "Oh, I'd forgotten how much I missed this half-hearted 'I hate that mangy wolf' act. It's almost as interesting and fresh as the 'I hate that frigid, stuck-up asshole' act," she told him deprecatingly, and he glared at her.

"But still not quite as predictable as your inevitable stumble and fall routine in the face of practically every youkai we faced during the first two years of travelling together—" he ignored her outraged gasp with a wicked smirk. "And do you know how many youkai we faced during those first two years? A fuckin' lot."

She splashed him in retaliation, sniffing petulantly when he leapt away, now laughing at her.

"Come on, 'Gome. You know I'm joking. Well, I wasn't lying—you _did_ trip over everything, but I wasn't saying it was a _bad_ thing. …Though it's not really something to _pride_ yourself—"

"—Ugh! Just stop talking, you baka. …And I'll have you know that when giant, enormous youkai crash into the ground only feet away from you, the earth tends to shake pretty violently.

"_Sure_, Kagome." He winked at her, and she tweaked his ear half-heartedly with an irritatingly soapy hand, leaving it flicking after her touch. "Bitch."

"Ass."

They began finishing up the dishes in companionable silence yet again, and yet again, Kagome was the one to break that silence after only a matter of minutes.

"Hiroshi's been acting different lately. Have you noticed?"

Inuyasha watched her from the corner of his eye and nodded once. "A little, yeah. I think it's the girl—Julia."

"I know it is. Did you see him when he came in tonight? There was something different about the way he played with Hana. I can't put my finger on it, but it just seemed more…"

"Relaxed? Natural? Yeah, wench, I noticed."

"I just don't know whether to be relieved or worried. And I feel horrible for even questioning it." She handed him the last plate and reached for a dishtowel to dry her hands, fidgeting nervously for a while. "Do you think he's…I don't know, putting too much on her? What if things don't work out? What if they stop being friends?"

"What if they don't? Come on, Kagome, don't make me be the optimist for once—it's not normal," he teased wrapping an arm around her to settle under her breast. "Hiro's strong and smart—you know as well as I do that he's going to be fine."

"Yeah… Okay." She smiled over her shoulder letting go of the dishtowel when she felt his lips on her temple. "I'm just a worrier by nature, I suppose."

88888888888

Nearly a month later, Julia had found herself so caught up in the shooting, that she'd barely been able to spend time with even Hiroshi, let alone Kimiko and the others, so when she saw the silver-headed pixie working all her charms on the director one night just before dinner-time, she had to do a double-take.

The girl was grinning from ear to ear as she leaned up on her tip-toes to place a grateful kiss on his cheek, and the grouchy old director could only blush and grumble and motion to the others that they could wrap it up for the night.

Julia's jaw dropped as Mimi waved her over excitedly. "What a sweet man he is!" she informed the actress before grabbing her hand and ushering her away. "That was much easier than I expected—"

It had taken some convincing and even bribing on Julia's part to keep her friend from dragging her off to go dancing, and instead take her to her house to watch movies and play games. This was acceptable only after Julia promised to go dancing with her the upcoming Saturday.

And now she sat across from Mimi on the floor of their warm living room, Inuyasha watching them and the news from his position on the couch. She felt weird being off set in her thick stage makeup and instinctively tried to wipe some of it away with the back of her hand before catching herself.

Inuyasha snickered, but tried to hide it by staring at the television as some sitcom began and he grew bored. His mate was still at work, as was Hiro. And Kannon was on his way back from a 'study session'—like he _really_ bought that—and was bringing a few pizzas with him.

"You like pizza, right?" he asked finally, breaking into their boring real-estate board game that even they were quickly tiring of as the hour passed.

Julia looked up after rolling her die and nodded. "Love it."

He grunted, settling back on the couch. "Good."

She moved her silver shoe, and Mimi rolled the die, moving her dog and forking over some money with a grumble.

"So…" he addressed his daughter. "How was swim practice today?"

"Cold and way too early, as always. How was work?"

"I didn't have to talk to your tight-ass uncle, so it was a good day."

Mimi giggled, and pushed the board away in frustration. "Do we have to finish this game?" she asked her friend, voice pitched to a miserable whine. "I always forget how it seems to just drag on and on and on. I don't have the attention span for this game."

"No one has the attention span for this game," Julia agreed, setting to work on putting the game back in its box before settling back on her hands. "Thanks for breaking me out early, Mimi."

The girl grinned back. "Now that I know I can do it, expect a lot more free-time."

"I don't think this is something we should do too often. We're on a schedule."

"Oi," Inuyasha called, nodding at the television.

Both of the girls whipped their heads up to see that the hanyou had just turned it to an entertainment channel, where the latest movie and celebrity gossip could be found. And there was a picture of none other than Julia herself, unaware and in her on-set makeup, talking to Daiki, the actor opposite her. "…an unknown identified by sources as Julia Braden. Other than a few commercials and plays, she seems to have no experience in the movie industry. But she's certainly got the face for it. Sources say that this remake of a classic fairytale is currently set to be released to theatres next summer…"

With a squeal, Mimi launched herself at her speechless friend, knocking her back to the floor. "This is so exciting! I know a famous person! Can I have your _autograph_?"

Julia was still too stunned to speak and sat up in time to see Inuyasha rewind and record the short segment for Kagome and Hiro to see. "You can show the rest of 'em when they get here," he told her, lips quirking. "Not bad, Jules," he told her—his highest praise.

"Thank you… I still can't believe…" She looked at the television again before shaking her head. "It's too surreal right now. I mean, I've always loved the story. Now I'm playing the main character, and my picture was just on TV _as_ Snow White…"

"So you like fairytales, hm?"

"Well… I'm only really familiar with the popular ones, but yes."

"Keh," he muttered with a wan smile. "I s'pose everyone does, don't they? …Christ, when is Kannon gonna get here with the food? I'm starving. Fuckin' ate the last of the ramen, too…" he was grumbling, a petulant child.

Julia only smiled at him. There was once a time when he scared her, but over the past year she had grown more and more comfortable with his surly nature and gruff sweetness.

Sitting Indian-style beside her, Kimiko leaned forward to prop her elbows on her knees, letting her face rest on her balled fists. "He'll be here soon. Tell the story of the Shikon no Tama," she suggested with an innocent grin. "It will help pass the time."

"Are you still on about that?" Inuyasha muttered. "How many times have you heard that story, Mimi?"

"But it's my _favorite_," she pointed out plaintively. "And Julia's never heard it—or at least heard _you_ tell it."

"Mimi—"

"Papa, _please_," she tried one more time, and Inuyasha hid his wistful smile when he remembered how she would beg for the same story once a week years and years ago. And now she was growing up, and went to stupid things like _parties_ and on—_ugh_—_dates_ with stupid bastards. Yet here she sat on the thick carpet at his feet, looking up at him with all the excitement she'd held as a pup.

Of course he caved. There was really never any doubt that he'd relay the story with all the gusto he _ever_ had the moment she'd first asked him to. And sometimes… sometimes it was nice to pretend she'd never grown up and never would grow up.

"Alright, alright. Can't believe you're not sick of it already," he grouched, relenting, and Julia saw his smile even as he rolled his eyes at her ensuing cheer. Then amber fell on the woman. "You got time for a story, Julia?"

"Only always," she assured him, and he snorted, settling back against the couch with an absent smirk.

"Alright then. It's a long one, but I'll see if I can shorten it." He was already editing the story in his mind, reminding himself to drop all names. "Have you ever heard of this story? Or the Shikon no Tama?" He seemed satisfied when she shook her head. "Usually Kagome helps me tell it, but I guess I'll give it a go alone…"

"Once upon a time, there was a powerful sacred jewel called the Shikon no Tama, which attracted evil like flies on shit," he began, and Julia bit her cheek to keep from smiling at the colorful description. "It was said to be able to grant any wish, but unless the wish was pure and selfless, nothing good could come of it. Of course, there aren't that many selfless wishes to make, and anyone that wanted it, wanted it for selfish reasons. It was guarded by a young and lonely miko, who would destroy any youkai that would come for it and the power it held." He paused, quirking an eyebrow when he noticed that Julia actually had her hand raised. He suppressed a snort. "…Yeah?"

"Er, I know what a miko is," she told him with an embarrassed and apologetic shrug, "and I've heard of youkai before, but I'm still not exactly sure… Are they just…monsters?"

He frowned, brow furrowing as he thought of a way to explain the term while Kimiko just grinned and grinned. "I _suppose_ some of them were nothing more than monsters. I…hm." He discovered that it was almost as difficult as defining the word 'the' for him. It could be difficult to define a word that is so familiar and ingrained in one's life. "Mimi, help me out."

And the young hanyou was all-too-happy to come to his rescue. "Some call them demons. But it's more accurate to call them spirits, I suppose. Or magical beings," she explained for him before turning back to him with an encouraging and expectant smile, and he gave her a nod.

"Right."

"So…they're like ghosts," Julia concluded, doubtful, and Mimi shook her head with a smile.

"Let's just call them guardians," she decided. "Like I said-they're spirits, demons, or even animals that can take a human form. At least, the more powerful ones can, anyway." She bit her lip, looking to her father for support. "Hiro's better at explaining these things than I am… Let me think of what _he'd_ say if you asked _him_." She was silent for a moment before she straightened her back proudly and regarded her friend with a faux-serious expression that reduced her to giggles. Trying to deepen her voice, Mimi mimicked—"_We'll use inu youkai as an example. __A spirit manifests itself into something akin to the animal, but far more superior—a minor deity of the species. __It is__ powerful enough to shape-shift and take a humanoid form. _…Did I get the voice right?"

Julia laughed and shook her head before turning her attention back to Inuyasha. "Alright—I think I've got it now. …Sorry for the interruption."

He waved her apology away with a relaxed and dismissive hand, trying to remember where he'd left off. "So this miko kept the jewel safe from all the youkai that would take it and become all-powerful and rule the world and shit. Anyway, one day she met a young inu hanyou—"

"He means half-human, half-inu youkai," Mimi informed her under her breath.

"—Who wanted the jewel so that he could became a full-blooded youkai, leaving behind his human mother's blood and all human weakness. Of course, the miko wouldn't let him have it, but she wasn't frightened by him either. She ended up becoming his first friend, and they came to an agreement. The miko, who was tired of protecting the jewel, would give it to the hanyou if he would wish to become human, so that they could spend their days together and live normal lives."

"Don't worry," Kimiko bubbled happily at her side. "It doesn't happen."

"…Is that a _good_ thing?"

"Well, _duh_. You haven't met the second miko yet," she told her as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Don't _spoil_ it," Julia hissed back before realizing Inuyasha was staring at them pointedly.

"You want me to tell the story or not?" He seemed slightly mollified by their quick nods, and folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back into the sofa. "…Alright then. But on the night before the wish was to be made, an evil hanyou entered the scene. He had once been a human bandit that was badly burned in a fire and left to die in a cave. However, the miko had taken pity on him when no one else would, and doctored him in the cave. He lusted after her, and offered his broken body to a horde of youkai so that he could become a hanyou and have both the priestess and the Shikon no Tama. The night before the wish was suppose to be made, he disguised himself as the other hanyou and attacked the miko, who believed that her friend had betrayed her for the jewel. Injured, angry…dying, she tracked the inu hanyou down as he was coming to see her, and with a sacred arrow, she pinned him against the tree, sealing him so that he wasn't dead or alive—just…there. The dying miko asked to be burned with the jewel, and the evil hanyou wasn't able to have either."

Julia distractedly rubbed a strand of the carpet beneath her. "That's…really depressing."

The hanyou shrugged, offered her a small smirk. "It wouldn't be a true story if some bad things didn't happen. Anyway, it has a pretty happy ending," he assured her. "Mimi wouldn't like it if it didn't. …Also, it's about to become _hella_ confusing. Just go with it." With a thoughtful nod, he pressed on:

"About five hundred and fifty years later, a fifteen year old girl was suddenly sucked down a well by the discarded and resurrected remains of a long-dead youkai—I know, just go with it," he told her again, when her brow furrowed as she tried to process it. "Anyway, she was pulled into the past, fifty years after the hanyou had been sealed by the miko. When she climbed out of the well, she realized it wasn't the same place it had been when she'd first fallen in."

"Think of Alice in Wonderland," Mimi told her. "Like when Alice falls down the rabbit hole and finds herself in another world."

"Uh, right. So this girl—she was scared, and lost, and unsure of what to do or where to go, when she stumbled upon the sleeping hanyou pinned to a sacred tree. The youkai that had pulled her into the well to begin with—an ugly-ass centipede youkai—found her. Turns out that she was the reincarnation of the first miko, and the jewel was hidden inside her body. Before she could be killed, the hanyou woke up and told her to free him if she wanted to live. And she did. Using powers she didn't realize she had, she destroyed the sacred arrow in his heart and freed him. He killed the youkai—but not before it had torn the jewel from her body—"

"He then proceeded to try to kill said poor miko," came the playfully chastising voice of his mate as she waltzed into the living room, dropping her purse on the empty armchair as she entered still wearing her lab coat over her work clothes.

"Yeah, well…" Inuyasha grouched, "he wasn't _really_ trying to kill her. If he'd _really_ been trying, she would have died."

"And then the story wouldn't have a happy ending at all, now, would it?" Her eyes laughed at him as she kicked off her shoes. "Regardless, his attempts to kill her came to a permanent end when the first miko's little sister—an old woman by now—made a set of enchanted prayer beads for this new miko to tame him with—"

"Fucking annoying things that they are," he muttered with a hint of fondness. He felt Julia's eyes on him and, clearing his throat, released the beads around his neck that he'd automatically reached for.

"Anytime the hanyou got out of hand, she was able to physically subdue him with a single command. …I suppose it was rather cruel, but she was young and scared, and he was young and hurt. You see, this reincarnation bore a striking resemblance to the old miko that betrayed and pinned him—" She shed her coat and hung it over the chair before making her way to the couch to press a kiss into his forehead. Stretching out beside him, she propped her feet up in his lap and closed her eyes with a "mm" when Inuyasha grabbed one, absently massaging as he continued with the story.

"Well, the hanyou figured out pretty fucking quick that other than looks, the two mikos weren't _that_ similar."

"I wouldn't say he figured it out _that_ quickly," Kagome teased, and Inuyasha shot her a half-hearted glare.

"Well," he told her pointedly, "he had a lot of time to figure _that_ out after _the miko_ shattered _the_ _jewel_ into a hundred pieces—"

"—Accidentally, of course—"

"Which each shot out in separate directions all over the whole goddamned country of Japan."

Kagome nudged a rib with a hard toe in retaliation, but her mate only grabbed that foot and set to rubbing it, as well. "The shards were lusted after by power-hungry humans, youkai, and hanyou alike, and a lot of innocent blood was being shed over them, so the miko, who could sense them better than anyone else, knew she had to set out to rebuild the jewel. But she was a young and silly untrained miko in a violent and unfamiliar world. She knew she couldn't do it alone if she even could at all."

"The hanyou, who also lusted after the completed jewel, decided to join her so that he could wish to become a youkai after."

Julia was completely entranced. She'd never before heard a fairytale sound so…familiar and informal and interesting—like a lovers' 'how-we-met' story, complete with finishing each other's sentences. It just _worked_ with this story. Beside her, Mimi had repositioned herself on the floor, so that she was lying with her head resting on Julia's thigh as she listened.

"It didn't take her long to realize that the hanyou was—"

"—A strong, brave, virile ass-kicking machine," he finished with a smirk at his mate.

"Virile, huh?" she asked before winking at the entertained girls on the floor. "Actually, you baka, I was going to say a rude, stubborn, arrogant jerk."

"And it didn't take him long to realize that she was a crazy, bossy, outspoken, and happy miko, who, for reasons he couldn't understand, always saw the best in everyone—regardless of their heritage. She did what the first miko could never do—accepted the hanyou as he was."

Kagome was smiling at him, watching his face as he stared ahead, unseeing and lost in memories. "She was able to see through his gruff manner. She knew that he was lonely and distrusting because he'd been hurt and let down so many times. Of course they became fast friends, though it took a while for the hanyou to admit he cared for her. It didn't take long for the miko long to fall in love with him."

"She helped him find his inheritance—a great and powerful sword left to him by his Old Man, who had died when he was a pup—a baby," he clarified. "She showed him how to use it. He'd been unable to—"

"—Until he promised to protect her from his cold youkai half-brother, the Inu no Taisho—the great Prince of Dogs and Lord of the West. The sword—first wielded by their father who had fallen in love with a human hime, the hanyou's mother—was meant to protect humans."

"The hanyou was able to wield the Great Fang after that, while the uppity taiyoukai—who hated humans and hanyou—couldn't even touch it. _Pissed_ his brother _off_," he told them with a grin before thoughtfully adding, "The frigid asshole."

Kagome laughed, and turned a gentle smile upon her son's friend. "And then they began to build their gang of friends—their family."

"It all started with an annoying-as-hell orphaned kitsune, who saw the kind miko as a mother figure, and just loved to aggravate the shit out of the inu hanyou. But they all watched over each other."

"But…then there were complications." Kagome was nothing, if not serious now, and Inuyasha gave her foot an apologetic and assuring squeeze as Kannon fumbled through the door, pizza boxes balanced on one hand.

"Dinner!"

"'Bout damn time," Inuyasha informed him with no real irritation as the young hanyou set the boxes on the coffee table and went into the kitchen to grab some plates.

"Anyone that's not a lazy freeloader can feel free to help me put ice in the glasses," he informed him on his way out.

And after they were settled with their pizza and soft drinks, the story continued, the audience as riveted as ever.

They'd made it as far as the tormented and haunted youkai exterminator who'd lost everything, when Inuyasha heard the door click shut and moments later met the familiar gaze of his son, who leaned against the corner into the living room, listening to the household story until his mother reached a stopping point.

"But they convinced her to lay down her mighty weapon, talking sense into her before she collapsed from her injuries. And the slayer, strong even under the weight of her great grief, joined them in their quest to slay the evil hanyou."

"I think that's a good place to stop for the night," Inuyasha told them, stretching his arms over his head. "It's getting late. Didn't you have something you wanted to show them, Julia?"

"Oh, Mama, wait until you see-!"

"But Hiro—" Julia began.

"I'm right here, Jules." He smiled at her when she whirled around in surprise. "Now, what did you have to show me?"

O-O-O-O-O-O

"Wow. Just _wow_," she revered loud enough so that he could hear her from where she stood in his bathroom with the door left open. He was sitting up in bed, Ryuu's report in his lap. With a quick sideways glance, he could see her looking over her shoulder into the mirror behind her as she examined something—'_Her ass,_' he realized with an involuntary grin, and the sounds of snickering filled his head.

'_And what a nice one it is,'_ it agreed. '_I still can't believe you manned up and actually made a move._'

She caught his eye. "These kickboxing classes are really paying off… My butt looks _fantastic_," she told him in awe, slapping both hands on her cheeks and squeezing them through the fabric of her sleeping shorts. "_Look_ at it!" she urged. "It's all firm and…_there_!"

He snorted, but conceded. "It _is_ quite spectacular."

She nodded her agreement. "Spectacular, yes. Five months ago I didn't even _have_ a butt," she told him. "Remember?"

"…There's no right way I can answer that."

She '_hmmph_'ed at him before looking into the mirror again. "My butt was so flat, it was practically concave."

"I disagree," he told her, looking back down to the papers in his lap. "I thought it was very nice even before the classes."

"So you _were_ paying attention!" she accused, a victorious grin in her tone. "And here I was, thinking you were always the perfect gentleman. The very epitome of chivalry."

"I…hmm." The look he shot her was a failed attempt at appearing contrite, and she only rolled her eyes before padding off to the sink to brush her teeth.

She appeared in the doorway a moment later, toothbrush in hand. "It's alright, Hiro. I'm not a perfect gentleman either." She beamed smugly at him before popping the bristles in her mouth and scrubbing.

"I think we both agree there," he told her mildly, flipping a page over. "You're a heathen—just like Kannon and Kimiko."

She pulled the toothbrush away after a minute, and leaned over the sink to spit before retorting. "You're just jealous because I have a cuter butt than you."

"I'd hardly say I was jealous of that. _Grateful_, maybe."

Her answering laughter bounced off the bathroom tile.

She'd been spending the weekends with him ever since their first kiss almost a month before, and they were falling into a routine that he was quite enjoying—especially now that she was over her sudden bout of self-consciousness around him. The return of her self-confidence was both enjoyable and extremely trying to his restraint, which he'd previously prided himself in. But now…

Now it was everything he could do just to pull himself away before they both managed to get carried away. And she was a human in the modern age. Sex wasn't as finalizing to her as it would be for him.

'_Fuck __**me**_,' he thought, nearly groaning as he stared unseeing at the words before him.

'_That's what I'm hoping she'll do, too._'

'_Clever_. _Also, very unhelpful._'

'_But honest._'

'_**Still**__ unhelpful._'

But since he and Julia had gotten closer, the voice was more agreeable, more tolerable, less talkative and vicious, and sometimes Hiroshi forgot it was there. And it was _so nice_.

"What's that you're reading?"

"Hm?" He looked up to see her leaning against the bathroom doorframe, watching him with a freshly scrubbed face, and he offered her a small smile. "Oh. Just work. Pretty boring, actually."

She was quiet for a moment, and then "I thought you said you didn't want to mix work with your home life," she reminded, and he was struck by her soft seriousness. He closed the file and set it on the nightstand beside him.

"I did, didn't I? Well, I think that's enough for tonight anyway." He nodded his head once to the empty spot beside him on the bed, and she grinned at him before running to jump on the bed, landing on all fours at his side. He rolled his eyes with a smirk, grabbing a thick curl as it rolled off her bared shoulder and twining it around a clawed finger and using it to guide her closer. "You are such a child."

His words rolled off her back with the careless bunching of her shoulders and she leaned forward to press her lips to his, still smelling of the mint from her toothpaste. "You can't spoil my good mood," she told him matter-of-factly as he released her. "Tonight was too good a night."

"It's a shame I wasn't there when you first saw yourself on television."

"At least you saw it, right?" She settled beside him, Indian-style, facing him. "I don't think my initial reaction was too exciting. It's a shame you missed your parents' story, though."

"I'm more than familiar with that story," he chuckled. "It's a good one. They never lose an opportunity to tell it. Or rather, Mimi never loses an opportunity to coerce them into telling it."

"I can see why. I thought I knew some pretty dark fairytales, but that one just seems brutal."

A hand crept up her knee of its own volition and circled up and under her thigh, unfolding her leg and pulling it over him so that she was sitting and laughing on his stomach, hands braced on his chest.

His demeanor was content. Possibly even a little smug. "They all live happily ever after though—the typical ending. Just so you know."

"Look at how smooth you're getting," she remarked as he settled both hands on her hips. "I should start watching my back. You know—become the typical jealous girlfriend. I think I could play a convincing one if I set my mind to it."

"Can you see me as the testosterone-driven boyfriend that is threatened into a physical confrontation when someone even glances at you?"

There was a wicked gleam in her eyes before her expression became coy. "You mean your father?"

He grinned, slipping hands beneath his oversized undershirt that she'd fashioned into her own pajamas. And he certainly wasn't going to push her away when, hands still planted firmly on his chest, she lowered herself until her lips were dusting his in a kiss so gentle and innocent that he was suddenly reminded how very fragile she actually was.

"You're sort of perfect, aren't you?" she whispered when she pulled away to watch him, try to read him—and maybe she was getting better than everyone else, who tried and failed. "It can be a bit intimidating, I'm not going to lie."

He was baffled when he heard her words, saw the nervous worrying of her lip, tasted the inevitability in the air around him, and reached up to tuck a curl behind her ear, letting his palm rest against her cheek. "Jules… You can't possibly believe that," he told her softly. "I'm so far from perfect, it's frightening."

Her smile was weak, but she leaned into his touch. "Sometimes I forget you're human. …But don't let your godliness go to your head," she teased, and he pulled her down into another kiss, scorching tongue flicking against her lips. And when she moaned, he took the opportunity to deepen the contact, pulling her closer as his tongue brushed hers, drawing her in. Within a matter of minutes, she'd nearly destroyed all of his resolve as usual before he remembered himself at the last second, claws ready to slice away the fabric of her shorts.

'_We've _got_ to get a grip,_' it agreed at last, begrudgingly.

'_I'm glad we're on the same page._'

'_Think_ _about dead things. Think about that little girl you found, killed by—_'

His blood chilled instantly as a gruesome image flashed before his eyes, and he gently pushed the dazed woman away, suppressing a shudder. '_I have no words for how…entirely unfeeling and inappropriate you can be…_'

'_It worked, didn't it?_'

But she seemed to understand enough, and after planting one last kiss on his chin, she crawled off of him and settled at his side, head on his shoulder and a leg curled on his stomach. She hummed amiably when the arm she rested against enveloped her and his hand found its way under her shirt again, lightly tracing the outlines of her ribcage

"I haven't seen you since Sunday brunch," she reminded him after a few minutes of recovering.

"Mm. Someone's been too busy lately."

"_Someone_ wouldn't object to her boyfriend stopping by every now and then to pull her away for a surprise lunch."

She felt his amusement against her hair as he chuckled. "Tomorrow then. We'll go see how Anne's doing."

And not for the first time, she marveled over how thoughtful he really was. "…I'd really like that, Hiroshi." Her voice was husky, fuller than usual, and it made him remember exactly how attracted he was to her. Before he could act on it, however, she'd pressed on, bouncing back to her normal, quirky self in record timing.

"Can we play the question game? Like that first night at your parents' house?"

He was surprised at the quick change in her mood that warranted no segue but recovered gracefully with a genial quirking of lips. "That depends. Are you going to question my sexual orientation again?" he taunted.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "At this point, I would certainly hope not…"

"As would I, but you manage to surprise me every day. I suspect there's a particular question on your mind right now, and you're going to force me to answer it under the guise of a game." He didn't look irritated, so she shrugged against him, refusing to look contrite at his bold prediction.

"It's possible."

"If by 'possible,' you mean 'probable' or 'definite,' then yes, I imagine it is."

"You think you know me so well, don't you?" She paused, before relenting. "I'll start."

He leered at her victoriously. "I knew you would. …Go ahead."

With a quick, quelling glare, Julia continued. "When did you realize that you liked me?"

"Wow. Not going to ease me into it this time, I see," he commented, amused. "I've always found you attractive and entertaining, and I've always enjoyed your company," he told her honestly.

"That's it?" she asked, face crumpling in mild disappointment. "Just 'always'? I don't believe that. There must have been one particular moment where you just—"

"Christmas Eve," he interrupted, suddenly, and she pulled away enough to look up at him. He was "I'd known I felt differently about you than other friends, but it was Christmas Eve, and you'd had a miserable night, and you bounced back spectacularly. And then you hugged me when I gave you a box of DVDs."

"Not just any box of DVDs," she reminded him, "but a box of DVDs so thoughtful that it _deserved_ a hug."

"Anyway, that's when…" He fell silent and waited for her next question.

There was sweetness in her usually-mischievous smile, in her usually-stubborn eyes. "…I like that answer. I like it a lot. Ready for the next question?"

"Would that stop you from asking it?"

"No," she admitted with nonchalance.

"Then by all means…"

"…What's the best thing you've ever cooked?"

She was waiting for it, _expecting_ it even, so she had to laugh when he grinned easily at her. "Brownies."

"_Good_ answer."

"_Great_ memory," he replied. "One more question. Then it's my turn."

"Alright. Let me think—oh! Have you ever cried because of a song?"

Like many things about her, the question came from left-field, so he didn't waste time questioning it. "I don't think I've cried since I was a kid," he told her after thinking a moment. "And I wasn't into music so much when I was that young. So…no—"

"Wait a minute," she interrupted incredulously. "You haven't cried since you were a _kid_? You _can't_ be serious… Is that some sort of required male response, or are you being serious?"

He snorted, and reminded, "It's my turn to ask questions." She looked very much like she wanted to protest due to her newfound discovery, but with an annoyed frown, relented. "Have _you_ ever cried because of a song?"

She laughed, and rolled a bit more into him to look at him. "Last time we played this game, your first question was a repeat of my question, too."

"Ah, that's right…"

"Anyway, yes, of course. Lots of times, lots of songs."

For some reason, this intrigued him beyond words. He tried to grasp the concept of being moved to tears by the music that he'd depended on for so long. And he was moved by it, soothed by it, but couldn't imagine it causing tears. "And the last song to make you cry?"

"This counts as your second question."

It was his turn to look annoyed, but he nodded his consent. "That's fair."

"_Purple Rain_," she admitted when the soft ministrations on her ribs stopped long enough so that he could jiggle her. "By Prince. Or the Artist Formally Known As…"

"How twentieth-century of you," he teased, before falling silent to consider the song, which he was only vaguely familiar with. If he could only remember how it _went_…

"My mom loved the song," she told him absently, mentioning her mother for the first time since Christmas so long ago now, and he could almost hear what wasn't being said. There was a deepness in her soft smile that told him the game was over.

They were lying silent and awake in his bed, both lost in thought as Julia traced the lines of his open palm with a therapeutic finger, sending tingles up his arm with each stroke.

"Tell me about you mother," he said at last, and her finger paused before she recovered and continued with her mapping of flesh.

"That's not a question," she teased softly.

"I know," he told her. "I don't want this to be part of the game. I'm interested. Of course I'm interested, but if you don't want to talk about—"

"What do you want to know?"

"You never talk about your parents. I just want to know about her."

"Her name is Abigail…" she paused, and tried to figure out what to tell him next, where to start, what he wanted to know.

He picked up on the difficulty she was having, and did his best to help her along. "That's a nice name," he told her gently. "How did she meet your father?"

"In high school. They graduated together. She was in the top five of her class—really smart. And he was a linebacker on the school's football team. I think they were happy together for a while. They must have been..." She pursed her lips in thought, trying to remember that far back. Her eyes narrowed into focus and she smiled at him when he squeezed her hand in encouragement.

"And then what happened?"

"You know… What usually happens. Life. I don't know if my father ever grew up or really left his glory days of high school. I remember him still wearing his letterman jacket when he must have been in his mid-thirties."

"Ah…"

And he wondered what life would have been like if his parents hadn't been able to mentally leave behind their glory days in Sengoku Jidaii. Of course, they still reminisced, but they had lives in the present, and really—that's where their allegiance lay.

"And then came the alcohol, and the gambling, and then the other women. I could hear Mom asking him in the next room, and he'd make something up," she muttered bitterly. "But she knew—you could just _tell_… But she never did anything about it, no matter how sad it made her."

Distaste and disgust toward Charlie welled up deep and loathing within him, and he suddenly understood where her deep-seeded hatred toward lying came from.

"And then she started forgetting things. Losing her keys when she was already holding them. Putting the milk in the cupboard. And then it got worse. I'm _not_ saying it's his fault," she told him suddenly, earnestly. "I'm _not_ saying that. But it couldn't have helped…"

"Oh Jules," he breathed against her forehead. "Of course not."

"He left when I was seventeen—and with her credit card, which she wouldn't have declined. He was gone for _months_. And she just…fell apart. She had to leave her job. Jackson had to move back in and help me with her."

"And he just _came back_?" he asked equally shocked and appalled.

The tracing had long stopped, and now she was absently flexing her fingers in agitation. "Something like that. He got on his knees, told her he loved her—all of that bullshit. And she took him back, so that he could keep lying to her. Of course, she was sick by then. He nearly bolted again when he realized just how bad… But he didn't. I think despite everything, he still loves her too much to leave her completely. He's just such a…such a selfish bastard," she whispered, unaccustomed to swearing so much. But it felt so natural when she was talking about her father.

"What did Jackson say when he came back?"

"He lost it. He wouldn't let him in the house—he'd had the locks changed the week after Charlie left. If Mom hadn't heard him banging on the door… Jackson still hasn't forgiven him, and it's been five years now. But he's kept his second job, and he still gives them money every couple of weeks…"

Hiroshi seemed to consider this for a while, and nodded against her. "And if he didn't give them money?"

"I help as much as I can. But it's not much. Or it wasn't before filming started. Now it's a little easier… But I couldn't support them alone."

Amber eyes flicked to the top of her head, and he felt his stomach roll uneasily at how difficult her life had been. And he'd had no idea… She was much stronger than she looked. He knew that already, but _this_…

"Charlie seems to suddenly find money when we can't scrape together enough for the bills and food."

"…That sounds ominous. Where does this money come from?

She scoffed in disgust. "Who knows. Probably gambling. I never ask because I know I won't like the answer."

"Hm…"

Her smile was bitter as she pulled back to look up at him. "Now you see why we don't have the best relationship."

"I see that you're a better person than I could ever be," he admitted. "If I had been in your shoes, I would have had to…persuade some sense into him."

She laughed quietly. "Is that your couth way of saying '_beat_ some sense into him'?"

"Possibly."

"If you'd been in my shoes," she told him at last, still smiling at him, "you would have done the same thing. Because she still has her good days, and she still loves him even if you can't understand why. God knows I don't."

"Hm," he said again, thinking. "And Christmas Eve?" he asked, watching the smile fade. "What happened then?"

She clenched and unclenched the anxious hand resting on his chest, calming down slightly when he resumed his soft petting of her stomach and hips with the pads of his fingers and the tips of his claws. "Charlie's been…trying to put her in a home for a while now," she admitted at last. "But says he doesn't have the money for it. He wants us to do it. And we just…can't. We're _glad_ he can't afford to send her away. But he says he can't take care of her the way she needs to be taken care of. And maybe he's right. She deserves to be taken care of, and Charlie, he…" she broke off with a sigh. "But it's not all bad days. She has her lucid ones, too. And she just…hates the idea of being dumped in a strange place, you know?"

He knew where this was going, and nodded with a sympathetic wince.

"She was having a pretty good day Christmas Eve… We were having dinner and being civil, and she was so happy. But then Charlie brought up that damned nursing home, and she just… She would really hate it if we dumped her there. Who wouldn't? She was screaming and crying and breaking dishes and became confused again."

"I see…"

"I visit her every week," she informed him tentatively, and even though he could smell her anxiety, she tried for nonchalance. "If you, you know, maybe want to come meet her sometime."

"Of course. I'd love that."

"But I'll understand if you don't want to…"

"Julia…" He reached out to catch her chin between his thumb and index finger and tilted her head up until her eyes met his. "I'd love to meet your mother. You've met mine tons of times. It's only fair."

Understanding dawned, and she looked amazed before her self-confidence returned and she beamed at him—until he kissed her because he just _wanted_ to.

And he was still getting used to doing things that he wanted, just _because_.

She was still smiling when they broke contact, and pried her hand under his arm to wrap her arm through his and hold his hand. And as her head fell against his shoulder again, they fell silent and simply enjoyed each other's company. Which is why he wasn't able to prevent a reaction when she shattered the silence.

"Will you ever tell me what happened when you were ten?"

She could feel the muscles in his arm tightening against her, and turned her head up to watch his profile. He was frowning, but not angry, she decided. And she was startled when she suddenly realized that it was something he was still dealing with. Whatever happened so many years ago, it was the reason he was the way he was today. She'd known it, deep down, but seeing it with such clarity as she was now…

"You keep insisting that something must have happened that year," he told her finally, and she frowned to let him know that she wasn't fooled in the slightest. She was surprised when he flushed in response.

"It's okay," she told him. "You don't have to tell me now. You don't even have to tell me—it can be Miroku or whoever, but it's still bothering you after all of these years. I think you need to talk about it."

There was a wan smile as he stared up at his ceiling, and he was reminded of the day he'd confided in her on the side of his dirt road on the first Friday they'd ever spent together. "Talk about it?" he repeated, words from the past.

"You never have, have you?"

He really wished she would drop this. But because she was Julia, and because she'd just told him something that must have been painfully personal, he'd give her what he could. Just enough to satisfy her curiosity in the vaguest way possible.

"When I was ten, my dog died, my father gave me Gintsume, and I became the way I am."

She nearly started, startled at his admission: '_and I became the way I am…_' She wished she knew what he was like before.

"Dog," she breathed, trying to remember the name he'd mentioned once upon a time… D-something. Daisy? Duke? "Daphne?"

"Yes."

She knew there was a lot he wasn't telling her. Circumstances, results…details. She wondered how much he would give her before retreating.

"How did she die? She was older than you, right?"

'_Will_ _you tell her about me, then?_'

'_Never, if I can help it._'

'_And if you can't?_' it challenged.

The muscles in his arm twitched. "She was older, yeah. And she was shot." He sighed and offered her a strained and weary smile. "She bit a bully on the playground after he pushed Mimi, and our fathers got into it."

"A man _shot_ your dog on the _playground_?" she asked, horrified.

"No," he told her, and she let out a relieved gasp of air. "He shot her a few days later, in our yard."

"What?" she breathed, curling further against him to watch his face and reaching to grab his bicep with her other hand.

"I still don't know how he found our house... He must have asked around the park and looked us up."

There was a sudden lump in her throat as she began jumping to conclusions that she was pretty sure were correct, for the most part. "Where were you?"

He gave her an odd look, as though she should already know. "I was with her. So was Miroku."

"Oh," she breathed before anger found her and she sat up, still holding onto his hand. "But you were _kids_!"

His smile was wan, but assuring. "That was a long time ago, Jules."

"But in _front_ of you!" she continued, disbelieving. He was still keeping a lot of it from her, she knew that. "What did you do after…?" She watched his face smooth into that careful mask.

"What do you mean?"

"Hiroshi. Don't look at me with that face."

He looked confused now. "What face? This is my normal face."

"It is _now_," she snapped, and then gasped at her own words. "…Sorry."

But he was just staring at her, face serious as he studied her, considered her.

"I didn't mean— It's just that… That face," she told him, reaching out to let her fingers hover and travel millimeters from his skin, "means that you're keeping something from me. Emotions you don't want me to see. Thoughts you don't want to or can't voice." She let her hand fall away. "I'm very familiar with that face."

"I got angry," he told her the moment she'd gotten the last word out, and her mouth snapped shut in surprise, though she couldn't possibly be more surprised than he was at this moment. "Angrier than I'd ever been before, or have been since. I didn't feel like myself, even. And I tried to hurt the man." His eyes fell from hers because he didn't want to see her face when he told the ceiling, "But my father stopped me and held me back. So I hurt him instead."

And as ominous as that sounded, she wondered, really, how much harm could he have done if he was so young…? Certainly not enough to warrant such a change in personality.

Her hand was suddenly resting on his cheek pulling him back to her. "Oh, Hiroshi… You can't beat yourself up over something like that… It was a traumatic experience, and you were young. Your father understands, surely. He's certainly forgiven you…"

"It was never about that," he told her after a long moment, his hand covering hers before removing it to settle on his chest. "He never held it against me, so he never needed to forgive me. But I realized something about myself that day. That's all."

"Hiro…you were just a _kid_…"

"You keep saying that," he told her, amused, but she sounded so sad. It was unsettling. "I'm fine now, Julia," he reminded her, but she knew better.

"Mimi…Mimi said you disappeared for a while?" she hedged, and he laughed, a sad, humorless sound.

"She thinks I disappeared? No, but I mostly kept to myself while I tried to figure things out. Mother and Father were the only people I'd agree to see at first. I'm surprised she remembers," he mused quietly. "She was so young."

"So were you," she reminded him before remembering something. "This year…" she began, already knowing and dreading the answer she'd receive to the question she was about to ask, "Was it the last time you cried?"

He didn't answer that, but then again, he didn't need to.

"So," he said with a tight smile, "that's what happened when I was ten. Father gave me Ginstume and started training me with it. Probably in order to reconnect with me."

She sat up to watch him and didn't miss how he seemed to squirm under her blue gaze. There was still so much he was keeping from her, and she knew this. And she was surprised when she realized that, at the moment, she _didn't care_. She could only imagine how difficult it had been for him to admit even that much out loud, and she was painfully aware that she was more in love with him now than ever.

She just couldn't voice that yet because she was only just getting used to them as a couple, and so was he.

Tucking a curl behind her ear, she nodded. "Okay," she told him. "Thank you for telling me." At his dry, pointed look, she grinned at him, and reached to brush his long silver bangs away from his eyes. "Don't look so miserable," she cooed, teased, rolling over to burn a kiss into his forehead and gasping, laughing when she felt him nip at her breast through the undershirt she wore. "I still think you're pretty perfect."

"I still think your _ass_ is pretty perfect," he teased back, making a show of grabbing at it through her shorts, and she collapsed onto him, still giggling. And once she'd wound herself down to a smile, she was pleased to see that he was looking up at her, returning it. And his face was so open and honest and gentle and content, that she knew she was perilously close to losing herself in the smoldering amber gaze that was just _so damn deep_…

"It is, isn't it?"

He nodded, mockingly serious and reverent before he smiled at her again, and pulled her closer into another kiss.

"I think we're good for each other's egos," she whispered against his lips, and she felt so warm and soft against him that he nearly groaned.

"…I think you're right. They do seem to be the primary beneficiaries of this relationship."

She was laughing again. "Only you…" she teased before his fingers were buried in her curls, and her voice lost against him, her fingers flexing against his chest.

* * *

A red light blinked steadily in the pitch of night, and through the filtered green and black light of the recorder's night-vision, eyes flicked up and pierced through it, shining white and inhuman as they, alone, gave off their own light.

The blinking stopped.

"That felt much better than I expected it to," the creature murmured in amazement. "I didn't think it would be…that _easy_…"

Behind the camera, a hanyou gagged at the thick scent of blood, but mercifully swallowed his own vomit. "Sorry," he muttered, hoarse, and young, and now terrified. "I didn't mean…"

The youkai watched him silently for a long, long unnerving moment, before he shrugged. "That's alright. …Lucky you could control yourself though. Tonight is supposed to be crucial—if you'd left a pile of sick…"

"I'm not. I won't," the hanyou hurried to say, trying to ignore the mushed pile of young entrails and young limbs and baby teeth. And when his partner made no move to leave it, but rather just stared at the blood on his own hands, he felt another wave of sick coming on. "Should we…you know, _go_?"

"Hm? Oh… Yes, we'd best leave now. Can you get the camera and the stand?" He calmly held up his hands, coated in blood, much like the rest of him. "I'm rather a mess right now."

Suppressing a shudder, the witness nodded, already fumbling with it. If he could just get out of here… All of that blood—who _wouldn't_ be able to smell it all? There was no way they could possibly get away with this. None. "Yes—yeah, I got it. Let's go."

But they did. And they marked the night that promised many, _many_ more would, as well.

The resurgence. The crucial domino, setting the final acts in motion.

* * *

Charlie frowned at the unfamiliar knock—too firm to be his daughters, and when had Jackson ever in his life knocked on a door? With a grunt, he pushed himself off the couch and switched to turn the television off before he made his way to the entry way of his row house. A quick look through the peephole revealed a vaguely familiar face, and it took Charlie a second to place him—he hadn't exactly been clear-headed the first and last time they'd met…

The door swung open, and Charlie, looking much more sober than he'd been on Christmas Eve, stared expectantly at the tall young man with the strangest silver hair that fell flat down his back. "What do you want?"

Unable to even fake a smile, Hiroshi handed him a thick envelope, face unreadable. "This is for food, bills, and your wife's medicine, understand?"

Charlie took it and looked inside, unfiltered shock broadcasted as he flipped through the bills before he remembered himself, and turned back to the hanyou before him. He frowned. "What makes you think I'll accept your charity?"

"Because you'll accept money from your children, who struggled to make ends meet," he managed to say in a tone that was surprising free of hostility, despite his words' intentions. "Julia _cannot know about this_," he stressed at last. "I'll continue to help however I can. But this means you stop accepting Julia's money. Jackson's, too." Then with a nod he turned to leave before he remembered—

"Oh, and one last thing. I know you don't have a job, so whatever you've gotten yourself into to get this money that Julia mentioned… Stop and get out of it. Nothing good can come of it."

Though he was still shocked with the entirety of this impromptu visit, Charlie was suddenly all-too-aware that his honor was being thoroughly insulted. "What the fuck do you know, boy," he snapped. "How old are you? You have no idea—You think you're better than me because you have a job?"

'_I know I am_,' whipped through his mind, '_but_ _not just because I have a job._' But he said nothing. He really didn't have to.

"I heard Julia tell Abbi all about _you_. You have your big, rich family to fall on—to just _hand_ you a job, just like everything else was _handed_ to you. Don't you fucking—"

"Right," Hiroshi interrupted briskly. "I'm leaving now. Don't let me find out that you've wasted that money. Or taken any more of Julia's."

"I don't _want_ your fucking money!" Braden yelled, flinging the envelope down the stairs after Hiroshi who, other than a cursory look over his shoulder, ignored it and continued to walk to his parked car as a few of the bills fluttered free.

Charlie watched him drive away before he finally walked down the steps to collect the fallen but not forgotten bills.

* * *

_That was a lot of fun to write. :P Also—answers! Vague (sort of) but very relevant answers! _

_If you're interested in this sort of thing, Hiroshi has a new (and more significant) song to sum up his character: "Wake Up" by Arcade Fire._

_**Next Chapter**__: Introducing Cho, Kouga's militant daughter, as the murders reach a frightening peak. Also introducing 'Samuru' (oh, I'm so clever) in his convincing portrayal of a cold-blooded murderer, as Hiroshi uses the voice to convince his uncle of his acting/surviving skills for an infiltration attempt. Finally, trouble and drama just because it wouldn't be a Captain Applesauce story if it wasn't filled with both._

_

* * *

_

_**Quotes of Randomness:**_

"_The man who said "I'd rather be lucky than good" saw deeply into life. People are afraid to face how great a part of life is dependent on luck. It's scary to think so much is out of one's control. __There are moments in a match when the ball hits the top of the net, and for a split second it can either go forward or fall back. With a little luck it goes forward, and you win. Or maybe it doesn't, and you lose." –Chris Wilton, **Match Point**_

_"Don't worry, I saw Lord of the Rings. I'm not going to end this 17 times." -Harry, **Kiss Kiss, Bang Ban**__**g**  
_


	13. Your Damage Is Done

_Chapter 13: Your Damage Is Done_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

* * *

_

_What? **Another **speedy update? Oh, yeah, baby!_

_Thank you for the reviews and feedback, you lovely people! As always, they inspire me to write more! And another thanks to the beta, Kate, for everything!_

* * *

_I don't wanna be left out, or get fucked.  
But there's a talent in your lies.  
If you're chewing with an open mouth, raw meat,  
Your blood drool attracts the flies._

_-"Eat Raw Meat = Blood Drool" by Editors_

* * *

'_This_ _is…uncomfortable…_'

Hiroshi didn't bother to respond as he, his father, and his cousin sat silently across Sesshoumaru's desk, waiting for the Taisho to say something. But rather, his uncle preoccupied himself with steepling his fingers before him and staring off into space.

He was still the master of tense and pregnant silences, and it had served him well over the years. But at the moment, he was not trying to intimidate answers out of his company, but rather to figure out how to approach a subject deemed sensitive.

Beside him, his father shifted uneasily. "Did you call us in here for a reason, or are you trying to prove exactly how similar you are to a fuckin' rock? 'Cause I already knew that…" He trailed off when Sesshoumaru's pupils narrowed back into focus and pierced him.

And then the tai youkai sighed and began to arrange the already orderly documents resting on his desk. "Thirty murders in as many days. My hands are tied…" he told them, and they understood.

"You want to try to infiltrate their organization again," Inuyasha surmised, and Sesshoumaru's unreadable, emotionless gaze met his own. There was the barest of nods.

"Have you decided who you will send?" Rei asked, shifting in his chair.

"Teji Akino expressed interest when last I proposed the idea."

"_What_?" Inuyasha bit out incredulously. "No! I mean…he's a good fighter an' all, but have you held a _conversation_ with him, Sesshoumaru?"

Sesshoumaru settled back in his chair to study them. He hadn't missed exactly how…dense the sloth youkai had been last time. "Hm."

Hiroshi took the opportunity to voice his own concerns. "I'm going to agree with Father. If you send in Teji, he'll not only blow his cover within hours of making contact with anyone—assuming he realizes he's made contact at all—but he'll severely damage our chances of infiltrating them ever again. He'll be returned to us in a bag, just as Katsu was, after they drain him of any and all information."

"Do you have a more suitable candidate to offer up," Sesshoumaru asked, vaguely put out.

"Of course," he replied easily.

"And may I inquire as to who you have in mind?"

Hiroshi smiled, and a shocked silence followed as the other three youkai stared at him.

Beside him, his father groaned, glaring at him in half-hearted accusation. "Oh, hell… Your mother is going to have a _stroke_."

The hanyou nodded once, thoughtfully, and responded, "She'll get over it. Can you think of anyone else that would be better apt for the job?"

"Indeed, I cannot," Sesshoumaru appraised at last, mulling it over.

There was a ruffled snort. "You came up with that pretty fucking quick, Hiro," Inuyasha grouched. "How long have you been considering this?"

"Long enough that it can't qualify as irrational."

"Hiroshi," Rei sighed, shaking his head and gesturing towards his cousin's silver locks, "this is ridiculous. You have one of the most recognizable traits of the family… Any disreputable youkai will know you for who and what you are immediately. You'd be walking into certain death."

"You forget how easily and drastically appearances can be changed with just a simple haircut and some dye."

There was a startled silence, and Sesshoumaru considered this.

"Haircut? _Dye_?" Inuyasha croaked before dragging a hand across his face, already resigned to his mate's wrath. "Fucking _doomed_…"

"I think my hair is a reasonable sacrifice, considering," he muttered, and his father chuckled wryly. "I can take pheromone pills to alter my scent," Hiroshi continued, "and pose as a kitsune or wolf hanyou."

"Holy hell, Hiro…" Inuyasha murmured, twisting in his chair to pin him with an openly amazed look. "You've actually put some _thought_ into this…"

The hanyou shrugged. "I would consider ordering colored contacts, as well. And I'm going to need to dye my hair at least two weeks before I go in so that the scent of chemicals has time to fade."

"You can't actually be considering this… You're talking about placing your _life_ in the hands of hair dye and colored lenses…" Rei looked beseechingly to his father and gestured at his cousin, "Tell him how ridiculous this plan is. It can't possibly work…"

"It's possible," his father murmured, still studying his nephew, who already seemed resolved in the matter. "With enough preparation, it is very possible…"

The dark-headed hanyou could only stare at his father, disbelief evident. "You can't be serious… You're talking about sending in _Hiroshi_…"

"No, that bastard's right," Inuyasha muttered at last, still studying his oldest son. "Hiro's the best hope we have of getting under their skin without anyone getting hurt or worse."

Rei was still shocked, still baffled. "You do realize that's not a guarantee, right? There's a fairly good chance that he will lose life or limb—"

"_He_ can hear you," Hiroshi interjected irritably. "And _he_ is more than willing to take that risk. It's _his_ _job_."

"What happens if you get yourself killed? Where does that leave us then?" the youkai snapped back fiercely. "You'll be _dead_, the department will lack a head of investigation, and most importantly one of the _Inu no Taisho's own_ will be lost to the very monsters that are causing the panic we're trying to quell! _You_ would be the casualty that will bring the department to its _knees_. Do you understand? Do you understand why the loss of the _Tai Youkai's_ _nephew_ would be more detrimental to the state than the loss of anyone else that works under you? You're a _symbol_, Hiroshi."

Hiroshi remained calm in the face of the heir-apparent's outburst. "Don't be so quick to write me off," the hanyou assured him. "I know what I'm signing up for."

'_Can I just say that I think this is a really fucking stupid idea?_'

'_Noted. And dismissed._'

'_Yeah? Well, can I say that __**Julia**__ is going to think this is a really fucking stupid idea, you douche?'_

'_**Julia**__ isn't going to think anything about this because __**Julia**__ isn't going to _know_ about this._'

It scoffed.

Gold clashed against gold before his cousin composed himself and turned back to wait for his father's decision.

"The risk is quite large," Sesshoumaru told Hiroshi before impassive gleaming eyes turned back to his son. "As are the benefits. Hiroshi will go. _But_," he focused his eyes on the hanyou in question, "considering how much rides on this operation, I will send for a trusted and talented colleague to assist you in your preparation."

Hiroshi mulled this over thoughtfully, finally nodding. "If you believe it necessary, then I have no problem with furthering my training."

"While that is a relief to know, it was never an option for you to refuse."

Inuyasha cleared his throat. "Who will you send for?"

A ghost of a smirk flitted across his thin lips, and Inuyasha growled, ready to rise to his feet. "You can't be fucking serious. I'd trust that fucking wolf with my son's training as far as I can throw him."

"I'm not sending for Kouga, but rather his eldest daughter, general of the Wolf Prince's ranks. I'm acquainted with her talents—she is a better strategist than her hopeless father ever was."

"Cho," Rei murmured thoughtfully. "Will Ronin be willing to temporarily part with her services?"

They were all familiar with this particular youkai, advisor of her brother, the Wolf Prince. She was essentially the true leader of the North, though Ronin, with his appealing personality and charisma, remained the face.

"We shall see. He has expressed regret and sympathy over the spree and offered his services. At the time I believed them to be unnecessary…"

Claws tapping against the leather of his chair, Rei announced that he'd phone the taisho as soon as he was dismissed.

"Alright… If that's all, then we're gonna go ahead and go," Inuyasha muttered, motioning for his son to join him. "I need to help Hiro get his will and shit together, 'cause, pup? Your mother's going to murder your ass."

"Yes, well…" Hiroshi sighed, obediently rising to his feet. "If you can come up with a more favorable solution, I'm all for it."

Inuyasha shot him a look. "Don't go all 'Sesshoumaru' on me—just move it."

* * *

'_You're such a fuckin' coward._'

Ignoring its irritated and accusing tone, Hiroshi took another bite of his steak, made tasteless by guilt, and stole a glance at the slip of a human across from him. She was only half-way through her first glass of wine, and he was hoping to wait until she'd at least finished her second before—

'_Pathetic, really. Didn't think you were the type to—_'

'_Since when do you have a high horse? Kindly remove yourself from it._'

'_Kindly remove that stick from your ass,_' it shot back. _'If you think she's going to be fooled by this whole thing, then we may be worse off in the next few weeks than I thought._'

Over the past week, he'd been trying to figure out how to tell her that he'd be gone for a while. Most likely no more than a month, but he couldn't be certain. He couldn't be certain of anything involving the mission, actually. But every time he tried to tell her, she was in such a good mood that he couldn't bring himself to spoil it. It had been decided that Hiroshi would cut off all ties with the outside world once Cho arrived from Furano so that he could focus on his planning and training, which would take place in the field behind his parents house—where they usually sparred.

Cho was arriving tomorrow, and he'd yet to tell Julia.

She'd been pleasantly surprised when he picked her up from the set to take her out to dinner, but he was afraid he wasn't being very entertaining on this particular evening. And of course, _it_ wouldn't stop bitching at him, unable to grasp _why_ he wouldn't be able to at least _talk_ to her during his two to three week training and planning period before his actual mission began.

He'd decided that she wouldn't understand if he didn't tell her everything, which simply wasn't an option, as it would only make her worry, and quite possibly endanger her. He was making good on his promise to keep her completely separate from his work-life.

It was selfish, but they'd both be better off for it in the end.

He sighed.

"Alright. What's wrong?"

He was startled back to the present by Julia's flat, expectant voice. Blue eyes held him frozen, daring him to lie to her this time. He offered her an apologetic smile, but before he could open his mouth, she cut him off with a warning.

"Hiro—you've been moping since you picked me up. In fact, you've been acting strange for the past few days. If you tell me one more time that there _isn't_ something bothering you, I'm going to scream. And then leave the restaurant. Alone," she added for emphasis, lips quirked into an encouraging smirk. "So what's going on?"

He hesitated, and finally nodded to her wine. "Drink that first."

She felt her nerves spike, and a sense of foreboding washed over her. "Oh God…this must be bad…" She obediently drained the wine, and let her glass fall to the table with a 'clink'.

"Some…things have come up at work," he began tentatively, gauging her reaction. "And they need me to take a business trip of sorts. …I'll be gone for…a while."

He watched the blood drain out of her face, but she otherwise handled the situation with more calm than he was expecting. She pushed her plate away, least the smell of food further unsettle her stomach. "How long is 'a while'?" she asked at last, voice hesitant. She _really_ didn't want to hear the answer.

"I'm not sure yet," he admitted, ears flattening as anxiety mangled her scent.

"Like…a year?"

"No, no," he hurried to assure her, smiling when she released a deep breath of air that she didn't realize she'd been holding. "At least a few weeks though. Maybe a month. Maybe a little longer."

She chewed distractedly on her bottom lip as she lost herself in thought. She looked like she really wanted to object, but couldn't find the words. "Oh…"

"I'm sorry, Jules. If there was another way… But I have to do this."

"No, I…I understand," she assured him, smiling for his benefit. "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

"_Tomorrow_?" Her voice rang through the quiet restaurant, and she self-consciously shifted in her seat, gracing those that were staring a forced apologetic smile before returning her attention to her boyfriend. Her hands gripped the edge of the table as she leaned forward, lowering her voice to a hiss, "And you're _just_ _now_ telling me?"

"I know. I'm sorry."

She sighed, wadding the cloth napkin in her lap and setting it on the table. "Well… What is this business trip for?" she asked at last. "I mean, I know I'm not exactly sure of what your job entails, but… I didn't think it was the kind that called for business trips."

He smiled at her and shook his head. "It's just something they need me to take care of. It's boring, really."

Light blue pierced him in a long, irritated look meant to remind him that she wasn't stupid. "Should I worry?"

"Nah," he lied convincingly with a smile, and she exhaled slowly.

"Well," she began again, trying for optimism, "a month isn't so bad. I think work is going to get pretty hectic soon anyway. My life doesn't so completely revolve around you yet, you know," she teased. "Just, you know, call every now and then?"

He winced again. "That's another thing… I'm afraid I won't be taking my cell with me. I'll be going to a pretty remote area, so we won't be able to talk until I get back."

She looked startled then. Where in _all of Japan_ was an area remote enough that it lacked cell phone towers? "You can't take your _cell_? …It _is_ dangerous, isn't it?" she demanded, tone accusing. "Don't lie to me, Hiro!"

"Jules." Their eyes met, and she seemed to sag with miserable resignation. "I'll be _fine_," he promised. "I know what I'm doing."

He'd managed to assuage her fears during a long walk through the park near her apartment. And sitting near the vacant pond, melting ice cream in hand and moon shining brightly above them, he'd kissed her, long and slow and deep. Reminded her that he wanted her, would miss her, missed her already as his mouth moved against hers. And she told him that he'd mostly miss her perfect ass, but she was okay with that, and he grinned against her, tossed their forgotten ice cream away, pulled her back into the grass with him so that he could remind her how much he would also miss her mouth and chin and fingers and ears and…

Leaving her alone and sleeping in her apartment the next morning was shockingly more difficult that he had previously believed it would be. Never before had he ever been this fixated on someone. He'd always been devoted to his job, and now she was proving to be more than just a distraction… But even as he pressed his lips to her forehead for one last goodbye, even as he actually hesitated before forcing himself out of her door, locking it behind him, he was more sure of his decision to temporarily cut ties with her.

This was far too important. Entirely too much lay on the line, commanding his full and undivided attention and devotion. And Julia had managed to so completely entwine her own life with his, that he sometimes found himself _daydreaming_ on the job—which had never been a problem before.

No, he'd made the right decision. He was sure of it.

There was an irritated and dubious snort, and Hiro was both grateful and annoyed that it was currently refusing to talk to him.

* * *

Three days later, Cho had proved herself to be delightful.

And by delightful, I mean a tough-as-nails slave-driver with butane in her veins and icy blue eyes that could freeze lava. Of course, when she and Hiroshi weren't sparring—which wasn't that often—she was actually a carefree bundle of optimism.

"Worst-case scenario?" She paused expectantly in her ministrations, looking up from the dangerous sai she was polishing to wait for his answer.

"In the worst-case scenario, they realize there is an agent of the Tai Youkai amongst them, and smoke me out. I am forced into confrontation."

"No, Hiroshi. In the worst-case scenario, they smoke you out, expose, and torture you. They twist secrets out of you, find out your night of weakness. They go after your family. Your girlfriend, mate, friends. Even your dog. Faith in the Inu no Taisho will not only falter, but _shatter_. That is the risk you run, should you fail."

-And by '_carefree bundle of optimism_,' I mean the exact opposite of that.

The slight clenching of his jaw was the only sign that he had, in fact, heard and understood Kouga's fierce, no-nonsense daughter. "That will not happen." After eight straight hours of hand-to-hand and weapon-to-hand combat, he had finally been ready to break a sweat when the wolf youkai had called time for a ten minute lunch break and tossed him a couple of bagged sandwiches and a bottle of water, which he'd already made quick work of.

She turned the deadly weapon over with the flick of a well-tanned, slender wrist, examining it in the sunlight behind Inuyasha and Kagome's home. "Nothing is ever absolute, and you are not guaranteed to escape with your life."

"It's a gamble I'm willing to make," he assured her, oddly certain in his ability to withstand any torture that anyone could inflict upon him.

"Suppose you are discovered, and against all odds, all of the fugitives you seek are being harbored in the same area. You'll be dealing with upwards of a hundred and fifty youkai and hanyou—all brutal and all with nothing to lose. If this is the case, make all efforts to avoid hand-to-hand combat. As strong as you may be, the outcome is not in your favor."

"Understood."

Though she'd kept her two sai and didn't hesitate to turn them on him, Hiroshi had been forbidden to even bring Gintsume, which had become, in battles previous, a very extension of him, as natural in his movements as his right arm. He understood the necessity of accustoming himself to defending his person without the weapon, which he would be leaving behind, but he still felt off-balance without it. The loss of Gintsume originally put him on equal footing with the armed, trained, and efficient youkai, but now that he was remembering how to move without it, he was quickly gaining the upper-hand on the battle field.

He was fast, but so was she—she was Kouga's daughter, after all. She had weapons—two of them, and she was very, very good with them, but he had more physical strength. Both were fantastic strategists, predicting the other's moves with bold accuracy until most of the battle consisted of feinting and blocking.

Cho's tale swished, drawing his attention, and she was silent for a moment, lost in thought. "Do you believe that they are still together or divided?"

How many times had he asked himself this very question? "I do not doubt that they have a base, and it would not surprise me to discover that they take refuge there together."

She considered this for a long moment before snapping back to reality, and straightening out of her lax stance. "Well, in that case, we'd best get back to work."

* * *

A week after Cho's arrival, Hiroshi was introduced to the wolf youkai's lovely and pale girlfriend, a water youkai that had accompanied her to the west. This was the same day that he sacrificed his trademark hair.

"Hiroshi, this is Hisae," she said, signing to the sweetly smiling blonde. "She's going to make you much less recognizable. Which could very well save your life."

He held out his hand, and she shook it before freeing her hands to voice her pleasure.

"She says she's pleased to meet you," Cho translated briskly, and Hiro returned her smile with a nod.

"The pleasure's all mine," he said wryly, freeing his hair from its low ponytail, a style he more frequently utilized during this past week of training in sweltering heat.

It didn't take him long to come to the conclusion that Hisae was unbearably gentle and sweet. So much so that the hanyou couldn't help but marvel that she was attached to the hardened warrior that Cho had proven herself to be. He wondered if she had the fire necessary to fight with the general, who was surely intimidating.

'_She's nothing like Jules,_' it pointed out with a snort.

'_You don't even know her._'

'_Hypocrite_.'

His snapped back to attention with a flutter of hands, and he waited for Cho to translate.

"Would you like black hair?" Cho didn't even wait for his response before she told the soft woman, "Black will be fine," and Hisae set to work at mixing the dye.

Two hours later, his nose was burning with the pungent scent of chemicals, his freshly dyed ears still twitching in protest at being handled by unfamiliar hands, however careful they were.

A brief traitorous thought flickered through his mind, and he wondered what Julia would think of his ears—not for the first time—before shoving it ruthlessly to the side and focusing on the matter at hand.

Hisae was signing something to him before turning expectantly to her girlfriend, who translated.

"She wants to know if she can donate your hair to a charity."

He glanced briefly at the lengthy silver locks at his feet and around the chair he was seated in. Each strand was over two feet long, but he surprisingly felt no great loss at the sight of the hair. He nodded his assent, and she set to work collecting, binding, and bagging it as Cho examined his new look.

"Not bad. Convincing. Natural," she nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "You won't be instantly recognized as one of Lord Sesshoumaru's. She did a good job on your ears, too."

'_Jules is going to lose her shit when she sees you…_'

Hiroshi had yet to look in a mirror, but he'd already reached the same conclusion it had just voiced, adding, '_Jules?_ …_Try _Mother_._'

'_Oh, Christ, you're right._'

"We've ordered some colored lens for you. Brown. We figured it would be easiest to mask your gold that way. They should be here in a couple of days."

"Good."

"You are also to visit your taisho tomorrow. I believe he wishes to see the results of your transformation, as well as test your acting abilities." She began to circle his chair, taking him in from every angle. "I've seen enough now to know you're quick on your toes, so I'm not too worried about your ability to lie under duress."

"I appreciate the vote of confidence." He distractedly ran a hand over the top of his hair, short enough on the sides that it bristled, and only the barest bit longer on top—long enough that it lay flat rather than sticking straight up. His bangs, short enough that they didn't fall to so much as touch his forehead.

"Would you like a mirror?"

He shrugged, lifting himself to his feet. "I trust your judgment. Perhaps we should just resume training?"

She looked impressed, but agreed. After shrugging her protective leather jacket over her ribbed tank, she set to fastening the clasps while he brushed away the last remnants of clinging, clipped hair.

He looked up just in time to avoid a blade to the face, ducking under her outstretched arm before he attempted to break it—his mother would be home soon to heal it, anyway—and she twisted out of his reach with a nasty grin.

"Not bad, Hiroshi—" She lost her words when he made an attempt to slash at her throat, only to disappear as she whirled away, her movements halted by his sharp elbow under her ribs, instantly breaking two of them with the blow.

She retaliated by breaking his nose with the butt of her weapon. And they continued this way for another two hours until Kagome and Inuyasha returned home after a day of shopping.

"Well?" he asked with a grin, once he and Cho were before his speechless parents in their kitchen. The blood from his nose had dried on his chin and battle leathers, and Cho was still bleeding from the small punctures on her neck and the gash across her forehead.

But his mother ignored all of that because—

"Your _hair_!" she reminded him, horrified and incredulous as she dropped the forgotten bags in a heap around her. "_Hiroshi_! You _didn't_! What…!"

His father was grinning at him. "Well, shit, pup. It don't look half-bad…"

"Inu_yasha_!" she snapped, staring quelling daggers at him, and he nearly squirmed.

"What, wench? It doesn't."

The look she was giving him promised pain, and he was relieved when she whirled back on her son. "Do you have _any idea_ how _long_ it will take it to grow back? And your beautiful color… _Why_ would you do this?" She motioned for him to bend down, aggravated that she could no longer pull his hair to accomplish as much. He hesitated before complying, flinching when he heard an appalled choking noise. "Your _ears_…!"

His father grinned at him when she slapped her son upside the back of his head. "Mother—"

"Don't you '_Mother'_ me, Hiroshi Takenawa," she shot back, completely ignoring her old friend's daughter for the time being. "I'm so mad right now, I could purify you. In fact—Inuyasha, go dig a hole in the back yard."

"Sure thing, wench. But while I'm doing that, don't you think you should patch up the wolf's brat?" He nodded to the wolf, frowning as he appraised the damage his son had done. Seems they were playing a bit rougher than he usually encouraged...

Still glaring at her son, Kagome relented and pushed past him to examine Cho's wounds.

"I broke some of her ribs, too," Hiroshi told her quietly, trying not to further incur her wrath, "in case she doesn't remember to tell you." After all, the youkai was just as soon to ignore her injuries to banish all signs of weakness—it hadn't taken him long to realize that.

Both women were now glaring at him, and he sighed, lowering his gaze.

"The nose looks good on you, pup," Inuyasha baited, still sporting his smug smirk.

"If you want results, you have to take some risks," he quipped.

"I think that nose is your punishment for murdering your beautiful hair," Kagome snapped as she waited for Cho to unclasp her leather armor so that the miko could have direct access to her skin.

"I think you're taking this a bit too seriously."

"You'll know just how serious I am after you're buried out back—Inuyasha, grave, now," she reminded, and her mate only chuckled at her while her son busied himself with appearing remorseful.

"I thought Hiro was one of your favorites. Don't you think you'll miss him if you purify him?"

She tossed another mutinous glare at her son. "We'll have another baby to replace him. Maybe we'll get it right this time," she bit out grouchily, placing her hands against the mottling flesh just above the youkai's stomach after Cho had peeled back just enough of her tank-top.

"Ouch, Mother."

There was an undignified and disbelieving snort. "The _fuck_ we will. The twins are trouble enough. No way we're starting that process over again 'cause you killed one of 'em. Make do with the ones you got, wench."

"…I guess this means you don't approve of my hair?"

Even Cho, fully healed now, sniggered when the aggravated miko rounded on her towering but flinching son with a flurry of slaps as the two hanyou laughed at the frustrated woman.

* * *

"Remember," Cho reminded him the following day as he sat at the same table used during board meetings—his father, uncle, cousin and Cho would be his only audience today, however. "Your life and the future of your government are at stake. So, for the love of God, make it _convincing_."

Across from him, Rei, who would be conducting the interview, looked doubtful, but had refrained from voicing his hesitance ever since his initial outburst two weeks before.

Hiroshi was well aware of his fluent ability to lie and placed great faith in it. But he also had to respect what a huge gamble he was making, and with exasperated irritation, knew he could turn a gamble into a sure thing.

And he could do it with no personal effort at all…

'_Goddammit_,' he sighed, resigned. '_I can't_ _believe I'm saying this, but I need your help…_' He could actually _feel_ it leering broadly in response.

'_You're gonna let me have a go at it?_'

He shot a guilty glance at his quiet father and nearly changed his mind. He wondered if Inuyasha would _know_, would remember, would _recognize_…

'_They just need to know that I'll be able to fit in with the rabble I'm after._'

It feigned hurt and offense. '_What_ _are you trying to say?_'

Hiroshi ignored it, serious when he thought, _'…You need to think 'brutal.' Think like them. I'll be watching and listening very carefully… Do not make me regret this._'

'_Oh, _fuck_ yeah_,' it hissed victoriously, and Hiroshi felt his lips curl up into a dangerous grin as his body relaxed. With a single scoff, he leaned back in the leather chair, and kicked his feet back to cross them on the table. Cho seemed to be considering him, the total change in his posture and expression turned him into an entirely different person. It was believable… And combined with his new haircut, he was unrecognizable.

His father sat rigidly at his side, as both he and Sesshoumaru watched him very carefully. The grin curled even further into a sneer as darkened amber fixed themselves upon the latter youkai. "Seems you're in a bit of trouble, Lord Sesshoumaru. How're you gonna get yourself out of this one?"

Rei seemed a bit surprised by the playful venom in the voice that was both familiar and foreign. Gone was the mild mannered, genial hanyou that he knew so well. It took him all of a single second to overcome the shock, and continue with the trial run. "State your name, hanyou."

"Well, look at you being all authoritative… I am Samuru. …It's only fair that you tell me who you are and why you're askin' now."

"I am just a bystander in a bar, having a beer and making small-talk."

A quick, amused grin that crinkled his face. "Is that right? …Well, in that case, I hope you don't mind if I help myself…?"

Sesshoumaru narrowed his gaze when his nephew spun the chair to swing his feet off the table, and walked around to a corner cabinet, a sharp claw tracing slowly down the drawers and stopping at the last one with a satisfied smirk. "_Here_ we are." He pulled out a bottle of scotch that Sesshoumaru had yet to open. "If we're going to do the whole shootin'-the-shit thing, then we might as well be on equal terms. You want some?" He looked up through his lashes at the 'bystander' as he poured himself a glass, and Rei lifted a hand.

"No, I'm good."

"Suit yourself." With a shrug, Hiroshi made his way back to the table.

"Your opinion of the Tai Youkai, Samuru. What is it?"

With a snort, Hiroshi tossed a mocking, contemptuous glance at Sesshoumaru before smirking at Rei. "Stuffy old bastard that hides behind a desk, cowering to the whims of his fucking 'council' and those human cunts that like to pretend we don't exist. All those murders, those '_poor lost children_,'" he moaned, mocked, grin widening when Inuyasha shifted uncomfortably in his chair, "_he_ is the reason they're all dead. Lord of dogs, my ass… You want to see a _real_ youkai? Look in the _papers_, in the o_bit_uaries. The evidence is all there…"

"What do you mean?"

He downed his scotch, slamming the glass on the table before he made himself comfortable by folding his arms behind his head and kicking his feet back up on the table. "Well, they're getting shit done, aren't they? Whether it turns your stomach or not, they're _getting shit done_. The people are in a panic. The humans are whispering of monsters, and all the good little youkai and hanyou don't trust the Taisho and his hounds to keep them and their children safe at night. Sort of admirable, isn't it? No one's shaken the Great Dog like this since the slaughter of the Hanyou over three hundred years ago." He shrugged carelessly, and Rei fell quiet, nodding thoughtfully.

"You appear to be a hanyou, yourself. You don't fear for your human relatives, should the Great Dog fall?"

Chuckling, the Hiroshi shook his head. "Those weak bitches would cast me out in a heartbeat if they didn't fear me so much. It's pathetic really. My father likes to pretend I'm human, and my mother's so whipped, she lets him."

The audience of four listened to the hanyou's convincing rant with varying degrees of discomfort and satisfaction. It would help keep him alive, but did he have to be so damn _good_ at it?

The heir apparent nodded again, face pale as he stared into his cousin's eyes. "So you think there is a method to this madness? Do you think that the point is to rip the Taisho's title from him?"

Hiroshi shrugged and leaned back into the chair again as he inspected his nails. "Maybe. Maybe not. Depends on how you look at it."

"And how do you look at it?"

"The way I see it, they don't want the title of Tai Youkai… They don't want a Tai Youkai _at all_, you see? They want to knock the foundations free and let the chips fall where they may. Can't much blame 'em, can you? When you have such strong blood, such forgotten power running muzzled and leashed through your veins, when you're a fucking _god_, why _would_ you be happy walking as equals alongside this human disease? _That's_ why they question the Tai Youkai. _That's_ why they kill."

"Why do _you_ question the Tai Youkai? Why do _you_ kill?"

At Rei's final question, Hiroshi's smirk became all the more dangerous, eyes wide and eager as his feet fell to the floor again. He leaned toward the dark hanyou, hands spread on the desk before him. He looked ready to pounce.

"_Chaos_…"

There was a long, long moment when nobody said anything, and 'Samuru' settled back in his chair with an easy, self-satisfied smile.

"Well," Cho declared at last, clearing her throat and breaking the silence, "I thought it was convincing. Maybe a little over-the-top at times."

"Yes," Sesshoumaru agreed, eyes narrowed as the hanyou's smile took on a familiar and chilling edge. It was the smile of the hanyou that murdered Kouga's wolves, that assassinated Ushitsuyoi so many years ago, in another life. "That was a rather persuasive performance. Your new persona and his appearance are credible."

His head lolled to the side to pin Sesshoumaru with a bored gaze. "So we done here then?"

Inuyasha exchanged a look with his brother before frowning at his son, concern obvious now. "Hiroshi."

'_That's enough_,' the hanyou directed. '_We're done now._'

'_**Already**__?_' it almost whined. '_That didn't last even five minutes_.'

With a sigh, he turned a final smirk upon his uncle. "No hard feelings, right? I don't really think you're doing half-bad for what you got to work with."

And then Hiroshi was wrenched to the surface.

* * *

Another week, eight broken ribs, seven split lips, five internal injuries, and two snapped limbs later, the two strategists were still deep in their training with only four days left before they parted ways—Cho back to the north, and Hiroshi to the next stage of his mission.

Something was wrong.

He was forgetting something; he knew it. He could feel it, and it set him on edge and worried at the edge of his consciousness.

He was forgetting something crucial.

"Come on, Hiroshi! Get it together, now," Cho complained, straightening out of a battle-stance and jamming her twin sai into the aubergine sash tied loosely around her waist. "Since when are you so sloppy?"

The hanyou had just managed to avoid being gutted by one of the forked weapons, seeming distracted and senses delayed until that most crucial moment when he caught and twisted her wrist out of his immediate vicinity. Using his chest as a platform, she'd planted her feet and propelled out of his grasp, knocking the wind out of him in the process.

And now she was clearly annoyed at his lack of seriousness.

"Sorry, Cho. My mind must have been somewhere else at the moment…"

She held up a hand to stop him in his tracks, and he closed his mouth with a careful smile. "I like you, Hiroshi. I really do—you're a great warrior. But I don't _care_. I came all the way from Furano to help you with this mission—the mission which you refuse to devote your full attention to."

'_What_ _a bitch… All right. Paying attention now, which may not be such a good thing for her…_'

'_Behave._'

'_I make no promises. …Do you think Julia will kiss it better, if you get nicked by one of those goddamned mini tridents?_' It sounded hopeful, and the feeling that he was forgetting something returned with a vengeance, only to be shoved aside as a distraction.

'_Behave,_' he commanded more forcefully this time, though his face remained pleasantly neutral. '_Pay attention because we're not going to find out._'

Cho impatiently brushed her tight braid back over her shoulder and out of her way. "You need to take this seriously, Hiroshi. I've been following these attacks for the past year. You _cannot afford distractions_. Do I make myself clear?"

With a sigh that did not force that small smile, wistful now, from his face, he pushed himself to his feet. "I understand and apologize again. Shall we continue?"

Though still cantankerous, she looked slightly mollified, and in an instance, her two sai were bared and glinted in the sunlight. "All right… Watch yourself, dog. I'm not your father or your uncle, and I'm not going to hold back. If I see an opening, I'm shedding as much blood as I can."

He felt a thrill of dark excitement and hunger shoot through veins and extinguished it almost immediately. It took considerable effort to remind himself that, while she was a skilled warrior and an intimidating opponent, she would never be able to defeat the two youkai she had just thrown in his face. Rather, he needed to treat her as a threat slightly greater than her own father. "Understood. I appreciate the warning."

Two hours later, he'd managed to snap one of her wrists as she made to pierce his throat, and as always, she handled the injury with indifferent grace, continuing to attack until he had her pinned and told her that was enough for the day.

With a nod, they began to gather their things and head back into the house to wait for Kagome.

O-O-O-O-O-O

Julia drummed in excitement on the steering wheel as she drove.

'_Mimi is totally going to freak_!' She reached over to flip on the radio at the first red light she came to, and busied herself with the stations, pausing when she heard the first soft notes of Hiroshi's favorite Bach concerto. And then she wrinkled her nose when she realized that she could identify, not only the composer, but the concerto as well. '_I'm becoming such a nerd,_' she thought happily before anticipating the twins' reactions again.

The woman very rarely splurged. And when she did, it was on something more trivial like dinner or a dress or shoes… But when she'd seen it, used and forgotten in some lemon lot, she'd dipped into her new paychecks and sprung for it.

It was impulsive, and she'd made the decision before she had the chance to change her mind—something she was sure Hiroshi would only be able to shake his head at, were he here. A twinge of worry sparked in her brain, but she tried not to linger on it more than necessary. She'd already spent too much time worrying over and missing him to the point of distraction. But he wasn't here, and there was nothing she could do about that. She was, however, determined to make the best of the day.

If there were any day where she _was_ going to treat herself, today was it.

Never in her life had she ever had her own car.

It was a used, pale Volkswagen Beetle, imperfect in every way with its worn cloth interior and a busted speaker. It was cheap, and it was cute, and it was manageable, and she _loved_ it already.

She'd made plans to meet Jackson, Miroku, and the twins at a restaurant near her apartment, but she decided to surprise Mimi by picking the girl up from her home to show off her newest purchase.

She was still enjoying the feeling of owning her own car—of never having to hope or ask for a ride from anyone else ever again—when, fifteen minutes later, she pulled up to the familiar yellow house that rested well off the beaten trail.

The twins' Lancer was in the drive-way, and she parked next to it, quickly exiting her car and giving it an appreciative pat before trotting off to the porch and up the steps. She didn't even bother knocking as she burst through the door, already grinning. "_Mimi_!" she called, making her way to the stairwell and waiting expectantly.

"_Shower!_" came the muffled reply, but then she heard another unintelligible noise from somewhere behind her, and she turned to face the kitchen, expecting to see Kannon trying to sneak up on her.

She was already half-way through some half-hearted insult when her eyes fell upon the startled, dark-haired man fifteen feet away, and she was immediately very aware that it wasn't the wicked teen. "Oh! I'm sorry—I didn't know the Takenawas were expecting…" She trailed off, voice dying as she did a double take, eyes flaring and head reeling as she took in the familiar face and its altered features. His beautiful long silver hair was now jet black and cropped short, close to his scalp. But the _eyes_... _They_ were the same. A dark honey, now widened in surprise and remorse.

"…_Hiroshi_?" she floundered, stunned, and she wasn't sure if she was more taken aback by his presence or his appearance.

She had definitely managed to catch him off guard, and his contrite flinch at her astonishment set her on edge. "Jules—what are you doing here?" he asked, sounding much more collected than he felt.

'_Fucking smooth, you asshole_,' it bit out when the girl further recoiled at his words. '_Don't know _**why**_ the hell you think _**you're**_ the sensitive one… _Kannon_ could have handled this situation better than you are now._'

"What am _I_…?" she repeated incredulously, brow furrowing as the first inklings of anger began to filter in and rear their ugly head. "_I'm_ meeting Mimi and Kannon for dinner... What the hell are _you_ doing here?"

"Oi, Hiroshi—you left your jacket outs—oh…"

If Julia was surprised by Hiroshi's sudden arrival, then the arrival of the tall and slender woman with an article of Hiroshi's clothing in her hands nearly floored her.

"Hello. I'm Cho—" The wolf youkai cut herself off when the solemn hanyou shook his head at her, and she was immediately aware of the tension in the room as the human before her stared at her with unbridled shock and… The unfamiliar woman cleared her throat, uncomfortably aware that she was interrupting something personal. "…I'm just going to go now," she told him quietly, excusing herself with a nod at the girl. "I'll see you later, then."

"No," Julia interrupted, voice falsely bright and unnatural, as she stayed the beautiful woman with an upturned palm, and Hiroshi winced again. "I'll go. You stay. Tell Mimi—tell her I'm not going to be able to make dinner tonight after all," she blurted without looking back at him. She was already on her way to the door, and Hiroshi snapped into action, brushing past Cho as he ran after her.

"Julia—wait—" He growled in frustration when she slammed the door shut in his face behind her. He yanked it open in time to see the clearly upset woman make a valiant dash for an unfamiliar, but empty car. "Would you stop for a second?" But she ignored him, crawling into the small vehicle, and shutting the door behind her before he could stop her. He tried to open the car door just as she'd slammed the lock down. "Unlock the door and talk to me," he coaxed, a hand still on the door handle and one resting on the warm glass window.

And then their eyes met, and he felt all air escape him. Her face, crumpled in accusing and injured betrayal hardened in angry resolve as he could only stare. Her unflinching gaze mercifully released him as she looked ahead and cranked the ignition. "Don't leave," he commanded gently through the glass between them, and it came out as a plea. "_Julia_…"

She put the car in drive, ripping the handle out of his grasp as she peeled out of the dirt driveway, leaving him in the dust.

Frustration and inexplicable anger rolled over him in waves, and he could feel himself losing his grip on his cool, even as he tried to remember any soothing piece by Beethoven to no avail.

'_I fucking told you, you asshole. I __**told**__ you it would backfire!_' it was yelling now, and Hiroshi grabbed at his short hair in great ire, which was rapidly building within him. He had no doubt it was the influence of the voice. He'd gotten complacent during its months of submission, and now that it was raking at him with strong emotions, he was having trouble ignoring it and brushing it aside. 'You _can't brush her off—she's Jules, not Sesshoumaru's stupid __**fucking**__ secretary!_'

'_Calm down,_' he urged himself, straightening his back in time to watch the yellow of her car disappear behind the trees. '_I'll talk to her. We'll get this straightened out._'

'_You fucking better,_' it growled, and the angry rumbling didn't cease, and the hanyou was set further on edge, as he burst into action, striding into the house to grab his cell, ignoring the speechless and now awkward wolf youkai. A frustrated snarl escaped him when Julia refused to pick up her cell, and he had to remind himself to loosen his fingers, least he break the device.

'_Can you fucking blame her? You haven't talked to her in two goddamn weeks. She thought you were gone already. Don't you fucking feel sorry for yourself,_' it demanded, and the growling in his head made its way to the physical world as his throat rumbled.

Cho cleared her throat again, interrupting the argument that was beginning to break out in his mind. "I'm sorry—I didn't know—"

She wasn't expecting the vicious snarl that exposed his bared and threatening teeth, so she'd instinctively reached for a sai at her waist when he rounded on her.

"What the _fuck_ are you _still doing here_?"

And then he seemed to realize what he was doing and who he was yelling at, and relented immediately, shamed before Cho's stunned eyes. "I'm sorry," he sighed, running an agitated hand over his head. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

"I understand," she told him coolly, releasing her grip on her weapon though her hackles remained raised. "Practice at six tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

"Yeah. Look—I've got to go, but Mother should be here any minute now," he told her hurriedly, glancing out the kitchen window. The longer he spent here, the longer Julia had to stew in her anger. '_Fuck_,' he thought. "Let her fix your wrist before you leave."

"I'll just bind it," she said stiffly. "It's manageable. I'm just going to go."

"Cho," he directed, making his way back toward the door, "if you don't stay and get your wrist healed, then I'm not fighting you with my all anymore. I'll see you tomorrow."

She heard the door slam shut, and with a sigh, sat down at the kitchen table to wait for the miko.

O-O-O-O-O-O

Before she'd even made it to the paved road, she was fumbling with her cell, ignoring _his_ call and dialing the one number she was more familiar with than Hiro's. She had to take a moment to get a firm grasp on a sudden surge of emotion when she heard his voice, so comforting that she wanted to cry.

"_Happy Birthday, Jules,_" her brother greeted, a grin in his voice. _"…I'm not late, am I? I thought dinner was at six._"

"Um," she said at last, voice shaking with suppressed emotion, "Something came up. I'm going to have to take a rain-check on dinner tonight."

"_What? Aw, Jules, I was looking forward to meeting your cute friend._"

"Some other time," she promised, voice a little too bright, and there was a pause on the other end of the line.

"_What happened?_" he asked at last, and her nose stung, vision blurred.

"Nothing. I've got to go, Jackson. I'm driving, and traffic is bad. I'll talk to you later." She hung up before he could finish his protest and wiped at her eyes, trying to blank her mind and avoid replaying the scene. Trying and failing for the rest of the ride.

Hiroshi was already waiting in front of her apartment door when she finally made it up the stairs.

"How did you-? You know what?" she said suddenly, steeling herself against the rush of anger and hurt that swept through her at just the _sight_ of him. "Never mind. Move."

With a wince, he stayed where he was, shoulders bowed when he smelled the faintest trace of rising tears. "Jules—" he began, so she shouldered him out of her way, trying to ignore her surprise that she'd managed to make him budge. "Julia, listen to me."

She jimmied the lock angrily—almost frantically—nearly bending her key. "No. …this _fucking_ lock," he heard her hiss desperately under her breath. Her rising hysteria eased when the door fell open beneath her trembling hands. Stalking through, she tried to slam the door on him, releasing an outraged cry when he caught it with an open palm and let himself in. She whirled on him, eyes flashing, jaw ticking—lips quivering...

Shit, she was about to cry.

"Get out."

"Not until you listen to me," he replied firmly, closing the door behind him.

She stared at him in complete incredulity for all of ten seconds before clenching her jaw again and trying to shut him out of her thoughts. Dumping her keys and purse on the table, she walked into the kitchen to fix herself a glass of soda. "You," she told him, grabbing a glass from her cabinet and pointing it threateningly at him, "have nothing to say that I want to hear."

He sighed, and followed her into the room. "Jules," he began, but she cut him off with a fierce scowl.

"No. _You_ don't get to call me that right now. You _liar_," she added vehemently, just to piss him off. But the word only managed to make her even more furious—she slammed the glass against the automatic ice dispenser. "_Shoot_!" she cried, when the glass in her hands shattered, but even that didn't give her release. "Shit," she corrected hopelessly, staring at the red that pooled in her slashed palm and a little too aware of the breath that seemed to rush out of the man somewhere behind her.

She sniffled, and the growls that filled his head were deadly than ever.

"Now look what you did, you clumsy girl," he sighed, reaching for her hand. "You've got to be more care—" The hand was snatched away before he could make contact.

She was cradling her injured hand against her breasts, a furious, ancient hurt lighting her eyes—some old memory he'd managed to dredge up, some healing wound that he'd pulled at. "Don't you _touch_ me, Hiroshi Takenawa," she hissed, backing up against the counter, and he froze on the spot, eyes wide and ears pinned to his scalp.

"Jules," he finally managed, "you're overreacting."

She surprised him by laughing, it was humorless and angry, but she laughed. "Oh, you think so, do you? God, Hiroshi, you _really_ don't know how to deal with women, do you?" she asked in amazement. "Do you really think telling me I'm 'overreacting' is going to make this _better_? Do you think I'm just going to go, 'Oh, you're right. How silly of me.'? _No_, you idiot! Just because the 'great Hiroshi' tells me to calm down, doesn't mean I'm going to. In fact," she added matter-of-factly with a glare, "just to spite you, I'm going to freak out even more." She grabbed another glass and threw it against the wall a few feet away, glass exploding upon impact.

He flinched again. "Julia…"

"Oh no," she gasped sarcastically. "Julia's going crazy—she's overreacting! Better tell her to _calm down_! Maybe _that_ will work," she bit out flatly, glaring at the quiet man. "Maybe you should tell her she's making a scene—maybe…maybe…" She sniffled again before sending him the most defiant scowl she could manage.

"Look…just…just fix your hand, all right? I can't think when you're bleeding like that."

Startled, her blue gaze fell down to her wounded hand, blood falling to the floor from the gash she'd managed to carve all the way across her palm. Her anger left her so suddenly she was breathless, and a deep, aching pain filled her chest. "It's your fault," she murmured, refusing to meet his gaze now. "It's all your fault."

And he knew that.

She wasn't even surprised when his hand enveloped hers, pulling her along to the sink where the blood was washed away. A rag was pressed to her gash, and he told her to hold it there. He found the first aid kit, cleaned the wound, rubbed ointment in, taped it—all of this within seconds or minutes or hours. She didn't know because she wasn't really with him.

Not anymore.

And he seemed to know that. "Talk to me."

"No."

"Talk to me," he demanded again, softly.

"Go away."

"Julia—"

"My hand hurts."

"Please."

A hand shot out of nowhere and connected with his chest. She slapped at him again, hard, angrily. "You _lied_ to me, Hiro! You looked me right in the eye, and you _lied_! Without flinching or _anything_! How— " She had to look away when her nose began to sting, her vision blurring. "How can you just stand there and lie to me as easily as you tell the truth? How did you get so _good_ at it? Huh? What else have you lied about?"

"I didn't—"

"Hiroshi," she interrupted, her voice deadly quiet. "If you stand there and tell me you didn't lie to me, then I swear to God I will never speak to you again."

"I didn't," he continued firmly, "mean to hurt you, Julia." –she scoffed at him, but he ignored it— "I swear that's not what I meant to happen. But you _have_ to understand—I can't…" he sighed, cutting himself off. "I don't even know how to explain why I had to tell you I'd already left."

She shot him an incredulous look, and he had to pause before he realized with a curse that she didn't know he'd been here the whole time. "How long have you been home?" she asked suddenly and bluntly, face unreadable.

'_Ah, __**shit**__… If you don't lie, Hiro, she's going to be __**pissed**__…_'

'_Damned if_ _I do. Damned if I don't,_' he surmised as he kept his eyes on her face. "…I haven't left yet." He nearly whined at the confused and betrayed expression on her face as her eyes fell from his, traveling anywhere below his face as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her.

"Oh," she murmured. "Oh…" She was surprised by how much more it hurt for him to say that. "So for the past two weeks… You've been here the whole time…" He knew that she wasn't addressing him, though, so much as stating it out loud to make it more believable. "Oh…"

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, "—Julia, I was _working_. The whole time. I didn't lie about that. I'm leaving Friday."

Her eyes met his again. "I don't care."

"What…?"

"I don't care," she repeated steadily. "Do what you want, Hiroshi. I'm done with you."

A shock of real panic numbed him, and he reached out for her, surprised when she didn't shy away as he grabbed her shoulders. She just _stood_ there. "Okay—just _listen_ to me—"

"Did you fuck that girl?"

Snatching his hands from her shoulders, he recoiled in surprise at her words. "_What_? _**No**_."

"Then what were you doing with her? Why would you _lie_ about _leaving town_ for _two weeks_ and then spend time with her? Do you know how that _looks_?"

"I was working…" He sighed, and lowered tired eyes. "It's complicated."

"Right." She laughed humorlessly, but even that was better than the detached weariness she'd adopted only moments before. Her bright eyes lifted toward the ceiling so she wouldn't have to see his face when she told him— "I can't believe I'm surprised by this," she murmured in grim disbelief. "After all, if you can lie to your _parents_ about your own _brother_ nearly _dying_, you can lie about anything, right?" She heard the air rush from his lungs, and look at him in time to see wide, hurt eyes narrow into a thunderous scowl that she wasn't used to seeing on his face. She decided to push her luck. "Is your name even Hiroshi?" she shot at him sarcastically, and winced when she suddenly found herself pinned against the counter by his body, an arm on either side of her—her own hands beside his as she leaned back to put some distance between them.

This…was not what she'd been expecting, and she couldn't deny that she was a bit frightened by his sudden show of fury.

A growl ripped from his throat when he smelled her spike of fear. "_Fuck_, Julia—_what do you want from me_?" he snarled, and she met violently churning gold with a glare of her own, as all of her ragged hurt was mercifully channeled into pungent anger.

"I _want_ you to get out of my apartment before I give in to the urge to _stab_ you with a goddamn _steak_ knife," she shot back. "Other than that, I don't want _anything_ from you."

"Now who's the liar?" he asked quietly, seething—his growl stopping abruptly when she harshly grabbed his chin with her uninjured hand, yanking him down to eyelevel.

"Look at my eyes while I say this." They were bright and sparked dangerously. She stood before him the very image of wrath as she trembled with some great fury, and he was reminded of the look she'd cast upon her father when he found her on Christmas Eve. "That. Was not. A lie."

He pulled away from the counter, freeing his face from her grasp and backing up to give her some space. "Are you done now?" he asked softly. "Are you done trying to hurt me so that we can talk about this, like civilized, normal—"

She stopped him with an upturned palm as the quick fix of anger seeped out of her, and she was left drained and ripped ragged. "I don't want to talk about this, Hiro," and she had to pause when she realized just how close to tears the sudden loss of anger left her. "I don't want to talk about this at all… I wonder if this is what my mom felt when…" She shook her head to rid herself of the thought before she realized just how deep it was ingrained into her, and there was another painful shock of burning tears that stung her nose. "I never thought that _you_ could make me feel this way, Hiroshi" she told him honestly, choking back a dry sob that made him whine. "Not even _Charlie_… I feel so _stupid_! I feel… God, I feel _worthless_…" she whispered helplessly, unsure of what to do with the hands she held out before her. "I've been worrying about you for _two weeks_, haven't heard from you, not even a phone call—_two weeks_. You missed my birthday. And you were here the _whole time_?"

And just like that, he realized the reason behind that nagging feeling earlier

It temporarily forgot that it wasn't speaking to him in order to make him feel a little more like dirt and a little less like a man. '_Aw, fuck, Hiro, you asshole—you forgot her fucking __**birthday**__?_'

'_It's today… That's why she was coming to see Kimiko._'

Stunned, horrified even, he opened his mouth—had he ever fucked up something so simple so badly? He wasn't sure he ever had…

"Please don't, Hiroshi. Can't you please just _go_?" She was crying now, quietly, refusing to meet his gaze. "Please?"

"Jules…"

She surprised herself with a ragged sob at his soft murmur, and her hand flew to her mouth as she shook her head frantically. It had been a long time since she'd had a good cry, and she could feel the dam breaking. She'd been trying to hold it back until she could get him to leave.

She hadn't managed to stave off her breakdown until he left, after all. Her chest heaved uncontrollably and more tears fell. And when he pulled her to him and held her, she cried harder, and Hiroshi could only hate himself.

"You're s-such a j-jerk," she kept stuttering, voice thick with tears.

Low growls ripped through his consciousness letting him know exactly what _it_ thought of this situation.

'_Yeah, well, you didn't remember either,_' he snapped back.

He could only rub her back in soothing circles, stooping to rest his chin on top of her head. He had made her cry. She was crying, and he alone was solely responsible for her tears. It was an unfamiliar situation—he doubted he'd ever made anyone other than his own mother cry—and never like this. He remembered her breakdown in the rain that day so long ago now, and his ears flattened themselves against his scalp in self-condemnation.

Hiroshi pulled away when, after five minutes, she'd managed to wind herself down to sniffles and pushed weakly against him with a hand. He flinched when her puffy eyes refused to meet his as she held out a balled fist for him.

"What…?" he asked, voice hoarse and throat dry, and she said nothing, just watched as he reached out to take what she'd offered.

The key to his house.

"No," he told her finally, face hardened, after he was able to control the shock of surprised hurt that accompanied it. "We're not doing _this_," he bit out, holding up the key, "until after you've heard me out."

"I don't _want_ to hear you out right now!" she cried suddenly, pulling away from him completely and leaving the kitchenette to walk to the window that overlooked the parking lot. "I've already said that! I don't want to _see_ you at _all_ right now—I don't want to hear your _voice_, or—or… I'm _so_ angry at you, Hiroshi. I just want you to leave. Please just leave."

"I'll leave if you promise to call me when you're ready to talk," he finally agreed. "If I don't hear from you before I leave Friday, then I'm coming to find you when I get back. Deal?"

"Just go."

He felt irritation uncoil in his veins, poisonous as she gazed out the window, distant and unseeing. "_Julia_," he snapped, and she flinched.

"Fine."

"Good," he said at last, before pausing. "I never thought you were stupid. Or worthless. You're not. And I certainly never meant to make you feel anything less than what you are," he told her quietly, watching as she closed her eyes against his voice. "Everything."

If she heard him, or cared, she gave no sign as she stood trembling against the window, eyes closed as she turned her forehead to press it to the cool glass.

"I'm leaving the key on the counter." He watched her back, hoping for some reaction, but she wasn't going to make this easy on him. He supposed he deserved to feel like dirt. He supposed he could see how she could perceive this as one huge, elaborate betrayal. He might, after all, if he didn't and couldn't understand.

He'd purposefully left her in the dark, and she had hit a wall, had been hurt because of it.

But, for some reason, it didn't feel final to him. Otherwise, he might be more upset, might be more panicked, more impatient for her to hear him out. But now, he was just sad. Sad at the scent of tears that thickened the air around him, and angry with himself for causing them. For causing the tension in her body as she bowed protectively against the window, subconsciously shielding herself from him.

With a sigh, he opened the door, catching her flinch, though she made no move to watch him go. "And for what it's worth, I'm so sorry, Jules."

"You should have never kissed me, Hiroshi," she whispered, unsure if he would hear her or not. "You should have just left it alone."

There was a long moment where the door hung suspended, and she kept waiting for him to shut it on his way out. Then he cleared his throat and was gone, leaving her to wonder if their brief fling had been worth their friendship.

And of course it hadn't.

The moment she heard the door shut, she felt like she was suffocating, claustrophobic in her apartment. She struggled with the window she was pressed against, sliding it open and sticking her head out for fresh air until black spots blurred her sight. Gasping and gulping for air, she scratched at her bangles, flinging them from her wrists before her hands flew to grapple with the ribbon-tie of her sun dress.

'_Can't breathe_,' she thought, amazed, and her body continued to heave for air. '_I can't breathe._'

With the quiet click of the closing door, she'd felt so many of her ties dissolve in an instant. No more Miroku. No more Mimi or Kan. No more Hiroshi.

And for a moment—just a moment—she hated him with such _intensity_ for everything he'd ruined. And _for_ _what_?

Body hot and heavy and numb, she struggled to stay upright long enough to rip off her dress before collapsing onto the couch in her panties, the back of her hand against her open mouth. She leaned forward, trying to blank her mind and focus on the carpet as she attempted to regain her equilibrium and steady her breathing.

She'd never had a panic attack before. It was terrifying.

She was finally starting to calm down and catch her breath twenty minutes later by focusing all of her attention on a stupid movie. And when she heard knocking on her door, she promptly ignored it.

Three minutes later, however, the knocking had turned into incessant beating, and she felt fury filter back into her blood. She stopped in her room long enough to throw on an old t-shirt and her robe before flinging her door open, ready to inflict bodily harm upon Hiroshi.

But there stood her brother, boxes in hand, looking relieved to see her.

"Jesus, you didn't hear me knocking?" he grouched, inviting himself into her apartment.

"Jackson," she muttered in surprise, hurriedly trying to wipe all evidence of her tears away. "What are you doing here? I told you we'd reschedule."

Ignoring her question, he looked at the door as it closed behind him and hitched a thumb over his shoulder. "Did you know that Hiroshi was just…standing out in the hall? When did he get the make-over? Didn't even recognize him at first."

Locking the door, she resisted the urge to look into the peephole. "Is he still there?"

He watched her curiously as she crossed the apartment with deliberate nonchalance. "No, he left when I got here."

She shrugged and settled back onto the couch, ignoring the look that Jackson was giving her.

"So…you two have a fight or something, then?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

He noted her discarded dress in the middle of the floor, thin bracelets scattered around it. "Alright… Fair enough…" He held up a pie tin. "He gave me this to give to you. …I think it's apple."

A sharp twinge of hurt shocked her at the memory of the pie they'd shared on her last birthday, and she struggled to keep it hidden from her brother's prying eyes.

She shot the pie in his hands a cursory glance before returning her attention back to the melodramatic movie she was watching. "Toss it in the trash for me, would you?"

"…Ouch, Jules… That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

She glared at him. "No. I _don't_ think. Aren't you supposed to be _my_ brother? Toss it in the trash," she ordered again, groaning in frustration when he set it on the counter instead. "Jackson—"

"I'm not throwing it away unless you give me a good reason. It's a perfectly good pie. And if you _can_ give me reason enough that I'd throw away one of _Anne's_ _pies_, then, well, I'll have to kick his ass 'cause it must be pretty bad."

"I'm considering it," she grumbled.

"Did he hurt you?"

She made a face and grabbed at her hair at his serious question. He looked like he was considering leaving to track down the man. "_Ugh_. _No_! And I'm not doing this with you right now, Jackson. We had a fight, and I don't want to talk about it. In fact, I just want to be alone…" She looked pointedly at the door.

Her brother snorted, and settled beside her on the couch, nearly toppling her over when she refused to scoot over to make room. "Fat-fucking-chance, Jules. Haven't missed a birthday yet, and I don't plan to start today," he informed her, making himself comfortable and handing her a small white baker's box. "Even brought you a cake."

He sounded so pleased with himself, she nearly started crying all over again. She folded the cardboard top back to see the chocolate cake coated in pastel candy confetti. "Ah—Nearly forgot," he muttered, fishing around in his pocket for a Ziploc bag with a single pink and yellow trick candle, a box of matches, and two plastic forks in it. She watched silently as he stuck the candle in the cake and lit it for her before shifting to watch her expectantly.

"I'm not singing if that's what you're waiting for," he teased, ruffling her hair. "Happy birthday, Julia."

She gave him a weak, but grateful smile, and leaned over to blow out the candle without even bothering to make a wish. He grinned when it only flickered back to life. After its third revival, she was growing irritated, and he took pity on her, licking his index finger before reaching over to pinch the flame into nothing, removing it completely when it didn't bother lighting up again.

"So. What are we watching?"

Setting the cake on the side table beside her, she laughed, and it came out as a sob. "I don't know," she muttered when she felt his eyes on her. "Something stupid and dramatic with no nudity that you'll hate."

"Awesome. So you don't mind if I make fun of it the whole time?"

"Only if you don't mind being punched in the arm every time you open your mouth."

"Sounds like my kind of night."

It was sweet, really. She knew he was trying to distract her from her misery, and for a little while, it worked. And then, as the credits to whatever B-movie they'd just finished were rolling, she examined the hands folded in her lap and sank deeper into her fluffy robe. "I bought a car…" she admitted, and then she broke into sobs again, drawing her knees to her chest to hide her face in them.

He patted her back awkwardly as she sobbed beside him. "I don't think that's something to cry about, do you? Now you can cart your own ass around—go wherever you want, whenever."

She tried to laugh, but it was wet and thick. "We share a dog…"

'_But not really,_' she reminded herself. '_I _gave_ Zooey to him._'

There was a pause, before he began with a favorite of his— "Did I ever tell you the story of how you were born?" he asked her, and she sniffed rudely until he got up to retrieve some tissue paper for her. She gratefully accepted it when he offered, blew her nose, and waited to see how their childhood would turn out in _this_ story.

"It began with a young couple living off the fat of the land, growing corn, hunting deer and buffalo—"

* * *

_Samuru: "his name is God." A very fitting alternative to Masuru, I think._

_Holy hell! I cut __**and**__ dyed Hiroshi's hair! If you want to imagine the style, look up Jonathan Rhys Meyers, fo sho. This also means that the final scene in the epilogue of The Pain will be just a little different because I'm pretty sure I mentioned his hair being long and silver… Anyway… He's currently in the doghouse. Forgetting her birthday? That's a big no-no. Also, I so, so, **so **love writing faux-Masuru scenes.  
_

_**Next Chapter**__: Rei faces a crisis, and there is a change of plans that further frustrates our currently sulking hanyou. This chapter will align with the very last scene of 'The Pain'. We're a little past the half-way point now, guys! Thanks for bearing with me!_

_

* * *

_

_**Quotes of Randomness:**_

"_Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch!" –"Howl" by Allen Ginsberg_

_"'Money doesn't buy happiness.' Uh, do you live in America? 'Cause it buys a WaveRunner. Have you ever seen a sad person on a WaveRunner? Have you? Seriously, have you? Try to frown on a WaveRunner. You can't! They're so awesome, it's just throttle. People smile as they hit the pier." – Daniel Tosh_


	14. Futile

_Chapter 14: Futile_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha_

* * *

_Wow. You guys are amazing. Seriously, if you keep it up with reviews **that** flattering, my head won't be able to fit through the door before long. As always, I **really** appreciate them, and love you all! Prepare for a moody-Hiroshi—he can be a dick, sometimes._

* * *

_I keep the wolf from the door, but he calls me up-calls me on the phone, tells me all the ways that he's going to mess me up. Steal all my children if I don't pay the ransom, but I'll never see them again if I squeal to the cops._

_-"Wolf at the Door. (It Girl. Rag Doll.)" by Radiohead_

* * *

"You know, if you keep making that face, it really will stick like that."

Rei was startled out of his thoughts by his mate's silky voice, closing his eyes when Eri, standing behind his chair, folded her arms over him to settle on his chest. Her cheek was suddenly pressed to his, and he felt the tip of her lashes dust his skin.

"Not that you aren't sexy when doing the whole dark and brooding thing." Her arms squeezed him reassuringly when she felt, rather than saw, him smile. "Talk to me, Rei."

His smile faded before returning bitterly. "I'm ready to take a vacation," he admitted.

Her arms pulled away from him, and she appeared at his side, waiting for him to push away from his desk enough that she could slip into his lap. She hummed when his arms folded around her, her head tucked under his chin. "Then let's take one. It's been two years, hasn't it?"

"I can't go anywhere," he admitted after a moment of silence. "Not right now."

"…I want you to talk to your father. This job is really starting to get to you, Rei. Even Hana has noticed now."

"And tell him what?" he asked quietly. "That I hate what I'm doing? What I'm seeing every day?"

"Yes."

She sounded so sure, made it sound _so easy_ that he was left feeling raw and spent—less intact than she. "It doesn't matter whether I like my job or not, Eri. I _have_ to do this. I don't have the option of skimming over the twisted, messed up stuff because I _will_ be the next Inu no Taisho. There was never any other option."

Her arms looped themselves around his neck, and she was frowning. "I don't think this is worth you being so unhappy over," she told him at last, voice soft, teasing lilt gone. "Ask Hiroshi to oversee the cases. That's what it is, right? All of those children?"

"Hiroshi is already doing more than can be expected of anyone. He's been putting in sixteen and eighteen hour days for the past two or three weeks for this case. I can't ask him to take on my load, too. How selfish and weak would that be?"

"Someone else, then. And not 'weak,' Rei. I don't think you're weak at all," she murmured against the velvet skin of his jaw, an arm snaking up the back of dark silken hair until she was rubbing the base of an ear is soothing circles. "I'm proud that after everything you've seen, it still touches you. You aren't desensitized to evil. I don't think that's a weakness, do you?"

His eyes drifted shut as the kitsune continued her ministrations, and he felt her smirk against him, and then that confident sexiness consumed her tone again.

"Mm, let's plan our next vacation now. And promise me that once all of this is over, you'll take us."

"I promise," he told her immediately, eyes still closed.

Her soft laughter fell against his skin and made him shiver. "Well, that was easy. What about Hawaii?"

"What about Amsterdam?"

"Oh, I like your thinking," she purred, teased, grin in her voice. "We can share a hooker."

"And illicit substances," he smiled and reminded her, "Hana will be with us."

"Of _course_."

His hand moved to caress her still-flat stomach. "And the new pup."

"Absolutely," she agreed with a smirk. "What about Paris?"

"Wherever you want to go."

"We'll probably end up at Disney World," she whispered, her lips trailing up to his twitching ears.

He chuckled, his shrug jiggling her. "And I'm more than okay with that. …You know, there's a Disneyland in Paris…" he reminded her. "We could bring along a babysitter to watch the kids at night—"

"So that we can go out, _rendezvous_," she laughed. "Maybe have a _ménage-a-trois_ with that hooker from Amsterdam."

"You're terrible," he sighed, still smiling.

"_Mais tu m'aimes_."

And in his own private home office, papers and files in disarray all around him, he was temporarily pulled out of death and grief and _Jesus, they're just babies_, and he dreamed with his mate.

It might not have lasted long, but it gave him time to recover enough to continue.

As she straddled his lap, panties tossed to the floor beside his wastebasket, she met and held his gaze, and he remembered how dangerous she was. How much of a risk-

"You know, whenever you need to talk, whenever you need to vent... I'll listen, Rei," she whispered. A hand curled around the back of his neck, assuring that he wouldn't look away as she lowered herself onto him. Her breath escaped her as his eyes shut with the intensity of her, but she didn't lose her train of thought. "You know that, right?"

A hint of a smile ghosted his lips before his eyes opened again, met hers, and they reached an understanding. "Hold on to me," he whispered in response, his hands snaking around the back of her thighs to grab and support her as her toes curled against the cool hardwood floor. She, for once, let him take charge as he carefully released all of his frustration into her, breath ragged against her neck.

They were quiet for the most part, all desperate hands and puffs of breath, the thick fabric of her sundress rubbing audibly against his starched, but disheveled, button-up.

"Tell me we'll go to Paris," she murmured as their lazy, intense pace began to pick up, became more frenzied.

"We'll go to Paris." He was desperate now, and so close.

She didn't even remember opening her mouth, but she must have asked "When?" because his response was "Anytime-god, anytime," and she shuddered around him.

* * *

Hiroshi looked up from his noodles when there was a loud bang at his front door, which slammed shut momentarily, sending a napping Zooey scrambling from under his feet in a series of deep and ominous barks more threatening than the huge, startled puppy himself.

"It's okay, Zoe. Go lay down," he directed and waited warily and wearily for his laid-back, lazy brother to join him in the kitchen.

He wasn't surprised that Kannon had visited him at dinnertime—moocher that he was.

He also wasn't surprised by the lack of regard that his brother held for his house—more specifically for his door.

However, Hiroshi wasn't expecting the dark scowl that Kannon was sporting as he stalked into the kitchen. He wasn't expecting said teenage hanyou to kick aside a metal stool blocking his way to his older brother, effectively toppling it over across the kitchen with a resounding _clang_ and a yelp from the dog. And he _certainly_ wasn't expecting the apparently stupid pup to lay a hand on him, gathering and grasping a handful of his shirt to pull him closer to growl menacingly.

Gold met gold, and for a moment, there was silence. And then—

"What the _fuck_ did you do?"

Behind a carefully blanked face, thoughts raced, and Hiroshi tried to read his brother, tried to figure out exactly what he was at fault for. He came to the conclusion that the furious hanyou must have talked to Julia.

Frustration, fear, and a series of other emotions, too fast to interpret whipped through him at the thought of having to have this conversation this soon. He hadn't even dealt with it himself yet—the way the good-humored woman had _looked_ at him yesterday… And now his brother was getting ready to tear into the raw wound.

Well, shit.

He could only imagine what Kimiko was going to be like. He'd inevitably have to deal with her wrath as well.

Add to that, _it_ was unbearable to deal with now—it had spent the entire night and all day viciously berating him. He could feel his composure unraveling, and it worried him, to be honest. Of course, Cho hadn't taken it easy on him today after his slip—offended and cold, she worked him harder than ever, taking advantage of his mood and distraction to make him bleed after landing more than one hit… And Julia _still_ wasn't answering his calls… He was currently, undoubtedly, in the worst mood he'd been in a _while_.

And Kannon was _really_ fucking pushing him just by touching him, by being in his house, by _breathing_…

"You have until the count of three to get your fucking hand off me, Kannon, before I remove it for you," he countered calmly, quiet voice dripping with promise. "One."

But he didn't have to continue because his brother, still glaring, stiffly and painfully released his hold on the thin fabric. "What did you do?" he repeated. "Tonight was the _second_ time Jules blew us off. When Mimi and I went to see her, she didn't want to let us in the fucking _door_, and when she _did_, the first thing she did was burst into tears," he clarified, searching Hiroshi's face for any sort of reaction, and growling when he found nothing other than a slight flicker behind his masked eyes. "I figured Miroku's too much of a pussy to make her cry like that. So that leaves _you_. What the fuck did you do?"

"I want you to leave."

Kannon's shocked expression was drenched in tight sarcasm that only served to fuel his brother's ire. "Struck a nerve, did I, you fucking robot—?" He winced when Hiroshi was suddenly on his feet in a screech of the metal stool against brick floor, the butt of his palms crashing hard and unforgiving into the younger hanyou's collar bones, sending the pup stumbling back a couple of steps before the pain of the bruised bones caught up with him.

Hiroshi ignored the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at the awed, disbelieving look on Kannon's face as they continued to hold each other's gaze. Usually, he would have relented and offered one form of apology or another, but right now, at this moment… he honestly just didn't give a shit. "One more hit, and they're broken. Leave."

Kannon fought to hide his surprise as he righted himself, gathered himself up to face his brother. "Hit me again, Hiro," he challenged, "—just one more time."

"…I'm not in the mood for this today, Kannon. Not today. Not from you."

'_If he manages to goad you into a fight, I'm rooting for him,_' it hissed, still seething.

He glared in his brother's direction, '_Is that supposed to surprise me? Just shut the hell up and go sulk or whatever—I like you better when you're so pissed, you won't even talk to me.'_

'_Good luck shutting me the fuck up now, you prissy sonofa—_'

Kannon was talking at him now, and Hiroshi decided to tune out the mental berating in favor of the earthly one.

"—aren't friends now, or what?" he was saying, tone brisk, eyes still lit with fire he'd inherited from their father.

"What? Of course we're still friends. Now, I don't want to talk tonight—you know the way out." He gave a pointed nod in the direction where the kitchen entrance met the entry hall.

"Whatever—She's _my friend, too_, you asshole. Whatever shit you've done to upset her, you need to undo before I step aside to let Mimi claim your balls. Can't believe I tell you that she was crying, and you just fucking _sit_ there…"

"And I cannot believe you, of all people, are lecturing me on how to treat women," he bit out sharply, unfazed by his brother's sharp intake of air that could only mean pieces were falling into place or conclusions were being jumped to. "Do you know how ridiculous this is?"

"You _didn't,_" he breathed, eyes wide with appalled shock.

Hiroshi's face was pinched, and he was reduced to grumbles. "Anything I may have done, I promise you, you've done worse."

"No," Kannon declared firmly, still shaking his head and looking vaguely horrified. "No, what you did was _much_ worse because you did it to _Julia_, your _friend_. The girls I was with—I didn't know them, and they didn't give a shit about me. No feelings were ever involved."

"Just what, exactly," Hiroshi snapped incredulously, suddenly offended, "do you think I _did_ to Julia? You think I took her to my bed and dumped her? Is that _really_ what you're thinking right now?" A low and deadly growl followed the words, warning his brother to think over his answer very carefully.

"I don't know what in the hell is going on. But she'll barely talk to us, and you've got a huge stick up your ass like I've _never_ seen before."

Hiroshi scoffed. "I appreciate that."

There was a long pause, and Kannon narrowed his eyes suspiciously, trying to read his brother before daring him to lie. "…Does this have to do with whatever shit you're involved in with the Old Man, Kouga's hot lesbian daughter, and the makeover?"

"Fuck, Kannon," he spat, irritated. "We had a fight, I don't want to talk about it, it's none of your goddamn business, and I want you to _get out of my house_."

The younger hanyou ignored all but the first part. "Well, is it something you can fix with—oh, I don't know—_an apology_?"

A quiet, warning rumble filled the room, and Kannon watched Hiroshi's ear flatten menacingly, but didn't budge. "As difficult as it may be for you to process, I have a _job_ that I need to be focusing on right now. I'll deal with Julia after."

"After what?" Kannon shot back. "After this 'business trip' you've been working your ass off for over the past two weeks? Who do you think you're fooling?" And then revelation struck—Hiroshi could tell by the sudden shock of light in his eyes. "_Julia_? Did you think you were fooling her?"

A lip twitched, aching to curl up to bare teeth, but Hiroshi trained his features, and took his seat at the island again, aiming to focus all of his attention on his cooling noodles until his brother got bored and went the hell away.

"I'm in a weird position right now," Kannon muttered at last, not meeting the eyes of the other hanyou as he rubbed at the back of his neck. The air between them was suddenly stale and awkward. "I'm going to leave you with a word of advice because for once in your life, you seem to be a bigger fuck-up than I am. …Things would go a lot easier for you if you stopped seeing everybody—including yourself—as pawns in some calculated chess game. …Don't you ever get fucking _tired_ of it? Isn't it _exhausting_?"

That said, he left as abruptly as he came, and Hiroshi sighed, pushing his noodles away. No longer hungry, and suddenly very tired, the hanyou looked down at Zooey sitting before him now, watching him. When he quirked his giant head and perked his flopping ears, Hiroshi forced a small smile.

"You ready to go to bed and end this hellish day, Zoe?"

Instantly the dog stumbled to his feet, tail wagging excitedly behind him now as he waited for Hiroshi to make a move.

"And I saw you cower in the corner when Kan had me by the shirt... Going to make a great guard dog," he quipped tiredly, without censure as he rose to his feet again. The dog led the way to the bedroom.

No, today hadn't been a good day. He doubted tomorrow would be, either, and at 6:25 in the morning, Hiroshi was proven right.

Dressed, but with tangled bed-hair, Inuyasha opened the backdoor to find his son and Cho discussing more tactics on his back-porch before their inevitable physical training session. "Hiroshi—you're gonna have to come with me for a few hours," he muttered, looking more agitated than his son had ever seen in that early in the morning. "They found another kid—out in the open this time."

Hiroshi frowned, turning away from the silent general at his side. "Ryuu can't take care of this?" The otter youkai had been left in charge of the Lullaby Slaying cases during his absence. When his father, lips tightened to a thin line, shook his head, Hiroshi excused himself before Cho decided and informed them that she was joining them. Within two minutes they were all climbing into Inuyasha's SUV—the family vehicle, which, in the past, had carried his family off on vacations. Which, presently, was carrying them off to a dead body.

For nearly fifteen minutes they drove in somber silence before Hiroshi, brow furrowing, realized where they were heading, and when Inuyasha parked only a minute later, he felt a threatening shudder crawl up his spine.

It was the park where he, Miroku, and Julia went to look at the Christmas lights. The park where he and Julia ended their last date. The park that was only a few blocks from her apartment.

Getting out of the car, he walked numbly and briskly in the direction of the heavy scent of blood, and before long, he saw it. An area had been marked off with police tape, and familiar faces were standing around talking, snapping pictures, pointing to certain things in the direction of the body. It was the most attention Sesshoumaru had ever allowed one of his crime scenes to draw—marked out in the open.

His eyes met Rei's, and Hiroshi saw the look in his eyes before the youkai could hide it—that haunted look that had grown more and more pronounced over the months. …He really needed to talk to him about that. Or maybe even Sesshoumaru, who was present, as well.

'_This doesn't bode well at all_,' he thought as he climbed under the tape and into the ring, and it said nothing now just as it hadn't said anything after Kannon left because it was still furious. When was the last time Sesshoumaru graced a crime scene with his presence?

He couldn't even think of one.

"What do we have? Any ID?" he asked no one in particular, as his eyes fell on the corpse. He stilled.

Beside him, his father cursed silently and violently before pushing past him to approach and kneel beside the body—a young human woman, mid-to-late teens, no clothes.

"Not yet." Rei gave a single jerky nod in her direction. "Diagnosis?"

His nose tried to filter through the overwhelming scent of human blood and spray paint. "A hanyou and a youkai this time—a toad and a…polecat, respectively. Obviously, they needed her intact enough to deliver a message…" He approached her body to kneel beside it, taking in as much as he could.

Inuyasha lifted himself to his feet again, face hard. "I'm following their scents as far as they'll go," he told them sharply, and Hiroshi watched him duck back under Sesshoumaru's yellow tape.

The girl was pinned on all-fours by stakes through her hands and the soles of her feet and into the soft earth, her body supported by a pronged metal pole jammed deep into her gut and deep into the bloody grass she hovered above.

'_On_ _all-fours. Like a dog,_' it mused lightly, breaking its furious cold-shoulder in light of the macabre scene. '_I'll be damned… I think this just got personal._'

Around her neck was an inverted spiked dog collar, tightened so that the sharpened spikes dug mercilessly and relentlessly into her small throat, both piercing and crushing it. Her head, unsupported, leaned as close to the ground as the bloodied prop in her stomach would allow, hair pooling on the grass, and Hiroshi grimaced at the heavy streaks of silver spray paint in her black locks. A set of fake triangular dog or cat ears set on top of a headband dusted the ground and were nearly hidden by her thick hair.

'_Personal, yes…_'

Around her body, etched in silver spray paint and sprayed generously with her blood was a message—the first they'd ever left behind like this:

_"Put a leash on your Dogs. Or we'll put them _**_all_**_ down_."

"Hiroshi," Rei murmured from his side. "I think they know. About what you're planning."

He frowned at the body before him, eyes still dancing over every detail. "Impossible. If they know, then we have a leak."

"I know…"

"Among the higher-ups?" he demanded. "Who else knew besides us? I know that Cho's arrival wasn't exactly a secret, but… Ah, fuck," he sighed. "…There's no real way to know. The timing could just be coincidental."

Rei leveled a flat and pointed look at him. "Do you believe that?" But Hiroshi didn't respond, turning his attention back to the young victim. He'd have to call Raidon's station to see if anyone had reported a missing teenager, though he doubted the panther youkai was even in this early. Regardless, he'd most likely have an ID on the victim within the next few hours without any heavy digging. Everyone knew about the slayings, which remained on the front page of every newspaper, so when parents lost track of their children for even the briefest period, they tended to call the police in a panic, regardless of the twenty-four hour rule.

They never left behind much besides ever-fading scents that cut off after they were picked up by accomplices. But this time…

"Those novelty ears," Hiroshi pointed out briskly, and beside him, one of his men stiffened to attention. "Find the brand, and then get me a list of shops within ten miles that supply them. Check the collar, too. Go."

With any luck, they could pinpoint the stores, check it out for scents, and maybe—oh, god, just maybe—they'd catch one of the perpetrators on a security camera. There were a lot of ifs and maybes, though.

Maybe the ears were purchased nearby. But maybe not.

Maybe one of the two killers purchased the ears themselves.

Then again, maybe not.

And if they did, could they find the store before their scents faded permanently? What if the ears or collar had been obtained weeks before? Months before? What if the store didn't have a security camera?

It wasn't a strong lead, but it was the most they'd been given in a while.

Rei's voice was hushed, low enough to hint at privacy, loud enough for Hiroshi to hear him clearly. "Do you think they know who we're sending?"

"Assuming they know at all?"

"They're watching us, Hiroshi," he murmured, tongue wetting his lips as he stared ahead into the distance—the usually busy street beyond the grassy park. "I can feel it. Can't you?"

The hanyou's eyes flicked over him, and he softened with concern. "Rei…"

But the youkai bristled at his tone, a soft scowl morphing his face though he made no movement to turn to his cousin. "I'm being serious, Hiroshi. You, yourself, said they were aiming for the collapse of our government. Is it so difficult to believe that they're keeping tabs on us?"

"No," he relented, "I suppose it isn't."

"I really don't think you should go through with this. …If you leave, I don't think you'd come back." He tore his eyes away from Inevitability to look at the clawed hand grasping his shoulder before he followed the arm attached to it up to Hiroshi's face. The hanyou had followed his gaze into the distant street, brows furrowed as though he expected it to reveal all of the world's evil to him.

But then he started back to his grotesque present and sighed, golden eyes running over the desecrated body.

"Go back to the office, Rei, and call Raidon. See if anyone has reported a missing girl. I've got this under control. As for this _message_-we'll continue to do our jobs until instructed otherwise. Agreed?"

"This is a mistake," the youkai murmured, but nodded anyway. "Fine."

And after he was gone, Cho returned to Hiroshi's side, lips half-quirked into a smile that didn't reach her stonewall eyes. "Nervous yet?"

He released a long sigh, ignored her question, and set to work.

* * *

It was Friday.

Julia's poor lips were being bruised by her teeth as she worried them yet again, locking her car behind her and making her way across the parking lot. It had been a couple of days since she had checked her mail, she remembered distractedly, and set to the brain-numbing task of checking it, her blood restless even after a long day of working on the hot set.

Today was the day Hiroshi was supposedly leaving, though she wasn't sure she believed that anymore.

"Fuck him," she mumbled unconvincingly under her breath, the language unfamiliar and the tone unsure. Any thought of his name was still accompanied by a surge of bitterness and petulant anger, though any real rage had cooled over the past few days.

She wondered if he would really hunt her down. And then she wondered what he was doing right now... And then she was disgusted with herself for even giving a damn.

Stifling a sigh, she turned the key to her mailbox and retrieved the bills inside, pausing when she came in contact with something thin and hard, sealed in paper. Puzzled, she pulled the pile out and was surprised to see a CD in a protective purple paper case resting on top. "Hiroshi..." she breathed, and a cold dread, completely independent of the name, flowed over her body like icy liquid, the hair on her arms standing on ends as chill bumps raced across her skin.

_Doom and hatred and smiling pain and-_

'_Danger_' darted through her mind. She stilled completely, thought someone was watching her-_knew_ it...

There was someone in the urban and concrete unknown behind her, a predator, a murderer, a rapist, a mugger, a monster awakened-

But how silly. How irrational her fear was...

Her head snapped over her shoulder, wild gaze darting from corner to corner. A couple of children were walking home in gym clothes, arm in arm and laughing, and she was suddenly afraid for them.

'_Oh, get a grip, Julia,_' she demanded, or suggested. '_You're being paranoid. Nothing is going to happen to you. Just get turn around and go inside._' She tried to embrace the fear, to open herself up to it, make herself vulnerable just to prove that she was being paranoid. She tried to shake it off with a smile, but remained rooted, breathing harsh, heart hammering, just as it would when she was a child and had to walk by a particularly dark and empty room late at night.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the two young teenagers made a sharp turn in front of a row house, disappearing safely inside, but inklings of dread remained, her imagination already running rampant and trying to reign itself in.

She surprised herself by shutting the mailbox and quickly walking back towards the stairs leading up to her floor, never taking her eyes off the darkened alleyway across the street from her parking lot.

Nothing was there, of course. It was only six in the evening-still plenty of light out.

She just missed Hiroshi's warnings, his dry complaints over where she lived, his only half-joking hints that she should move. A wry smile graced her lips as she reached the top step. She could be so dramatic at times...

But then a flash of...something-of movement or color or light-drew her gaze up several stories to the roof of one of buildings across the street, but there was nothing there.

A trick of the mind.

As soon as she was back up to her apartment, she'd forgotten about her previous fear and tossed the bills and junk mail on the counter, holding onto the CD and suddenly very aware of who must have sent it. She wondered what was on it, and considered throwing it away.

She more than considered—she attempted.

But immediately fished it out of the trash again, and before she could stop herself, removed it from the paper case to see his elegant scrawl in black marker.

"_Please call me."_

Bitter gall choked her. '_So _**_now_**_ he wants to talk on the phone.'_ She nearly flung the disk in the trashcan again just to spite him. But curiosity got the better of her, and she slipped the disk into her player. She tried to prepare herself-maybe for the Liszt's Hungarian Rhapsody. She wouldn't put emotional terrorism past him; he would probably try to woo her with nostalgia.

But it wasn't Liszt. It wasn't even classical music.

"_I never meant to cause any sorrow… I never meant to cause you any pain…_"

'_That conniving..._**_heartless_**_..._' she thought, amazed and unable to continue.

She was so surprised to hear the beginning of the all-too-familiar and oh-so-heartbreaking Prince song, that she started laughing. It was _so_…

Underhanded, _manipulative_- She had told him about the emotional affect that song had on her.

She doubled over, arms cradling her stomach protectively as the laughter took on a desperate edge and her knees gave out beneath her. And kneeling on the carpet, she continued to giggle until she was crying instead, a few quiet tears as she managed to control herself.

She wanted to curse him, to hit him until he understood what he did to her and was continuing to do to her. She wanted to make him feel guilty and stricken and heartbroken.

She wanted to be in his bed, wrapped in his arms. She wanted to sleep there until Zooey would press his cold nose into her back like he often did when he wanted to go out. She wanted to talk and tease and pick at the food while she watched him make their dinner.

She wanted a lot of things. Including insight. She didn't even realize what she was doing until the phone was ringing, and then it was too late.

"Julia?" He sounded surprised to hear from her, she noted and said nothing. "...Are you there?"

"Hey, Miroku..."

"Are you all right? You sound..."

"I just wanted to make sure that someone's feeding Zooey," she muttered, frown deepening when the silence on the other end lasted too long for comfort.

"He's well taken care of," he promised, but she couldn't think of anything to say to that. It was all so awkward now.

"Good..." She really wanted to ask a question, she wanted to ask about Hiroshi, but couldn't. The kitsune hanyou took pity on her.

"Um, how are you doing?"

"Great," she lied convincingly, hating Hiroshi for making it necessary. "Working hard. How are you?"

"Doing well," he assured her distractedly, "but listen, I know it's none of my business-Hiroshi's leaving tomorrow-"

"I thought he was leaving today," she interrupted nervously.

"It was, um, pushed back a day. But if you could just talk to him before he leaves... It'd really mean a lot to him." He waited for her to say something, but the silence stretched on. "Um, it'd...mean a lot to all of us, actually. If you just talk to him, so that he's not...distracted while he's gone."

"You're assuming that anything I have to say to him will make him feel better," she pointed out briskly. "A little worrying may do him some good." After all the shit he'd put her through, worrying and waiting... If she ever came around at all, it would be on her own terms and when she was good and ready, dammit.

"Julia, I'm not saying he's not in the wrong, but it's really important that he leaves in the right mindset. He can't afford to be upset or distracted or to worry."

And she thought she was going to be upset all over again because Miroku-he'd been her friend, too. "...You really should have told me, Miroku. You should have just told me he was still here."

"He asked me not to," was all he said, but at least he had the decency to sound ashamed. "Maybe...maybe you can come over, and we'll play Halo and catch up. I won't even tell Hiroshi to come if you don't want me to."

Her chest tightened miserably, and for a moment she thought she was going to cry again. But in the end, she just let out a long, ragged breath. "Goodbye, Miroku."

She'd hung up before he could say anything, and immediately started rifling through the drawers for something to do-a phonebook, a call, take-out, and a mind-numbing movie, and she was fine.

Just fine. But still masochistic. She fell asleep to "Purple Rain" on repeat.

* * *

Shifting his car into park in his dirt driveway, Rei took a moment to collect himself after the automatic and mindless drive from the office. He knew he was being paranoid. He knew Hiroshi thought he was being paranoid. But try as he might, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was incredibly, irrevocably wrong. But the matter was out of his hands, and Hiroshi was leaving tomorrow night to slum it out in bars, to become Samuru for god-knows-how-long because what else could he do?

Hiro's intuition was something to envy. He had an uncanny ability to feel out situations and places and a nose unrivaled, the youkai had to remind himself. He'd be alright.

Because if he wasn't, the state would sink into panicked chaos. He could see it now-the headlines, the sheer terror... _Even the Tai Youkai's Family Can't Escape the Clutches of the Lullaby Slayers._

With a sigh, he unbuckled his seatbelt and turned the ignition off. '_This past year will forever stain the reputation of the Tai Youkai,_' he realized, blanching as he shut the door behind him and made his way to the door. '_No matter what good we do, we will always be remembered for our inability to put an immediate stop to the murders. This is what I'll inherit._'

'_Rei…_'

There was a chilling tone of fear in its voice that brought him out of his own musings with a shiver of the spine.

"What the—"

'Rei_!_' This sharp alarm was tinged with horror, and several things came to his attention at once—he never was the most observant in the family, and he would have cursed himself for it now if he weren't so numb with panic.

Youkai had been in his yard, leaving their scent on the crushed grass, leaving their scent on his front porch—'two _youkai_,' flashed numbly across his mind, which slowed to a crawl, and he tried to stave back a sudden sickness as he bounded up the steps—only to stop short.

An intelligent looking little girl with a shy, yet sly, smile stared back at him, and he reached out carefully to pluck the picture taped to his door—his little Hana. Her most recent class photo. '_I don't…understand…_'

'_Get_ _inside. Find them._'

'_But there's blood…_' he thought carefully, and steadied himself against the door frame. A dull brown splatter of dried blood marred Hana's portrait, cutting off her shoulder, part of her neck. He could feel a certain hysteria fast approaching

'_Not theirs, Rei,_' it assured him, ever the voice of reason, before repeating, '_Get inside._'

But he recognized the scent, he remembered as he opened the door and used his nose to find his family. That drop of blood that they'd left on Hana's kindergarten photo smelled of Reah Mitzukosa, the young and dead girl with metal in her stomach and hands and feet and throat and spray paint in her hair.

He was already lunging up the winding staircase, bypassing the heavy stench of strangers that permeated the bottom level. And he was only vaguely aware of the playful buzz of the television upstairs, the lack of their blood's overwhelming stench. His heart wouldn't stop beating in his throat, wouldn't stop throbbing in his ears, until he saw them with his own eyes, alive and well.

And they were.

A choked sob startled Eri out of her nap, Hana tucked under their covers next to her, and she looked up to smirk blearily at her husband, braced against the doorway. With a jaw-popping yawn and stretch, she propped herself up on her elbows to greet him before the smirk faded altogether.

For a moment, he was holding onto the doorframe almost desperately, a hand clamped over his mouth, and she thought his eyes were glazed with tears. She sat up fully now-concerned because she wasn't sure she'd ever seen Rei cry... Hana's birth, the closest he'd come.

The movement seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in because in the blink of an eye, his arms were wrapped tightly around her, fingers splayed against her back and tangled almost painfully in her hair. "Rei," she breathed, unable to hug him back with her arms crushed awkwardly between them. "Are you alright?" And when he didn't answer, she tried to soothe it out of him. "Tell me what happened."

"Get packed," he demanded, voice hoarse and haggard.

There was soft laughter before Eri pulled away from him, frowning when it took no small effort to pry herself back enough to look at him. "What? Rei—what's wrong with you?"

He was suddenly on his feet and at their massive closet faster than she could register, as he flung a suitcase on the floor, and began snatching random clothes off of hangers, dropping them haphazardly into the open baggage.

The kitsune rose from the bed, frown deepening even as Hana rubbed the sleep from her eyes behind her. "_Rei_! _Answer_ me, goddammit!"

"I said to pack," he growled, making no move to stop long enough to talk to her. "You aren't staying here anymore. Now _help_ me!"

Her mouth fell open of its own accord, and the feeling that something was really, really wrong settled deep in her bones like iron weights, the first strangling tendrils of fear began to uncurl within her. When was the last time her mate had snarled at her? And she was certain she'd _never_ seen him this distraught.

Ears flattened, face bloodless and pinched as he continued grabbing and tossing shirts and jeans and dresses into the chest.

He stiffened when her hand fell gently upon his bicep. "Rei… Calm down before you frighten Hana," she murmured, and he looked guiltily over his shoulder at the child watching them in silent confusion. "What do you mean, '_not staying here anymore'_…?"

"I'll explain in the car," he promised, adrenaline shot but nerves still frazzled. At least he was no longer flinging things, the kitsune noted. "Make sure you pack all of the clothes you want to take. As many as you can pack. I'm going to start getting Hana's clothes together."

Eri looked like she wanted to argue with him, demand to know where they were going and why they needed clothes. And he was so relieved when she just set her jaw and nodded, turning to smile tightly at their daughter. "Want to help me pack, gorgeous?"

Ten minutes later, he returned to their bedroom to check on their progress and found his mate sitting on an overstuffed leather suitcase, working at the uncooperative zipper. "Rei, zip this please." She waited until he was kneeling beside her to hiss in his ear. "Tell me where we're going. Tell me what happened."

He sighed, and hurriedly tore at the zipper until he'd made his way around to the other side. "Right now we're going to Father's. After that, I'm not sure. We'll talk about it." He stood up and offered her his hand.

When Hana tugged on his hand, he tried to smile before scooping her into his arms in a careful hug. And when she was settled on an arm and hip, he grabbed Eri's suitcase from her and nodded to the door. "I've already put Hana's bag in the trunk. Let's go."

She followed him, still undeniably confused. But then she picked up on the unfamiliar scents in her house, and looked over at her mate. "Rei… Who was here?"

Another trill of alarm—sharper and more defined now—ran up her spine with daggers as she saw the effort he made to unclench his jaw before muttering, "I don't fucking know."

* * *

"We're calling it off."

Hiroshi, reclined on the couch in his parents living room, looked up at his father, ears perking. Slowly—very slowly—realization dawned on him, and his eyes widened in incredulous disgust as he sat up rigidly. "…What?" he asked, voice a flat hiss.

Inuyasha blanched and shifted uncomfortably. "We're not sending you in, Hiro."

"…You _are_ joking, right? You can't be serious."

His father looked like he had been second guessing himself even before he raised the subject. "No…" He winced at the accusing look of fleeting horror that passed over the young hanyou's face.

'_Wha—I…_' He couldn't even clear his head, quickly squashing the selfish thought of '_Julia left me because of this goddamned raid_'. It was just shocking that this was his _father_—_Inuyasha_; the hanyou who didn't take shit from _anybody_. The most passionate employee that Sesshoumaru had—and what? Now he was _forsaking_ those that needed him?

'_This isn't the first time he's refused to act, you know?_'

'_Shut the _fuck_ up! The _last_ thing I want to hear right now is your goddamn voice!_'

'_Jesus, Hiro… well, fuck you, too,_" it snapped back, stung.

"Is this about that damn _message_? You don't even _know_ they were referring to us—"

"They were, Hiroshi," Inuyasha bit out, voice clipped now. It seemed the old man had found his resolve at his son's complaint. "Obviously. And as smart as you are, you _know_ that."

He was on his feet now. "I'm not giving up on this just because there might be a little risk in it for me!"

"You forget that it's not just a risk to _you_, pup," the hanyou seethed, eyes blazing as he straightened his back, and both of them were fully aware that the situation was escalating fast, Hiroshi's newfound temper not giving way to Inuyasha's experienced one. "I'd let _you_ go because this was what you signed up for when you took the damn job. This is what you _do_. But _Mimi and Kannon_? No. _Hana_? No."

"If you're worried about them, place some of your men as temporary body guards until this is over," Hiroshi directed, "but you cannot so completely dismiss all the work we've put into this over the past month."

"I don't have a choice, Hiro."

Hiroshi stiffened, glaring at his father. "Who are you?" he asked blankly, before he began to feel his restraint snapping slowly under the stress placed upon him over the past few weeks. And now…

_'All gone.' _ How much work had he devoted? How many hours, how much blood, how many broken bones and how much training lost? The only relationship he'd ever bothered with had suffered, as well.

"I'm not risking my family."

"_Your_ family? What about _their_ families?" he cried out angrily, gesturing to the large window behind him. "This isn't fucking about _us_!" A creaking of the stairs caught his attention, and he snapped his furious eyes upon his mother, who had frozen in the stairwell.

"Oh…" she murmured at the fire in his eyes.

Inuyasha glanced over his shoulder to see his stunned mate before narrowing his eyes at the hanyou, a warning growl rumbling through his chest. "We're going outside," he told him, pointing to the back door.

"Yes."

They had barely managed to make it through the doors before Hiroshi, trying to calm himself from fury to agitation, continued, desperate to make Inuyasha change his mind.

"We can't afford to be selfish right now, Father. I'm sick of these bastards—I'm sick of losing to them," he managed to ground out, and the older hanyou took a step back, lip curling up in nothing short of revulsion.

"And you asked me who **_I_** was? _Who_ the _fuck_ are _you_, and what have you done with my son?"

He wasn't going to deny that that stung a bit… "Father—"

"The Hiroshi _I_ raised would never act so goddamned cold about these murders. You're sick of fucking _losing to them_? _Really_? The Hiroshi _I_ raised _gives_ a fuck about his family, and his goal isn't to _destroy_ the enemy, but to _save_ the innocent. I don't fucking _know_ **_you_**."

It was Hiroshi's turn to back away, ears plastered against his scalp as he tried not to show how badly the hanyou's words had affected him.

Inuyasha opened his mouth, and for a moment, he looked like he was going to offer some gruff form of a truce or some asinine comment to negate words that left the air between them formal and cold. But then he closed his mouth, pressing his lips into a firm frown. "Sesshoumaru called me no more than ten minutes ago. When Rei got home today, he found a picture of Hana taped to the door—blood smeared across it. Youkai were in his _house_ while he was at work—while Eri and Hana were asleep upstairs. They might not have touched them, but they didn't have to, to get their message across. If that doesn't fucking _terrify_ you, then you have nothing more to say to me."

"I'm not scared of—"

"God _dammit_, Hiro! What don't you _understand_? They're not going to go after _us_ first—they're going to attack our _pups_! What if that had been your little cousin mutilated in that alley? What if that had been your _sister_?"

He took a deep shuddering breath, but said nothing, ears still pressed into dark hair. "Okay. All right," he relented, his expression grim. "…But are we supposed to just do nothing? Am I expected to turn a blind eye while more kids are being slaughtered, and just be relieved that I don't know them, so that makes it okay?"

"I ought to kick your ass for that remark, Hiro," he sighed, shaking his head. "I don't know about you, but I'm going to hunt these bastards to the end of the Earth. Those fuckers threatened my family. ...We'll figure something out. They'll mess up, make a mistake, and we'll have their asses when they do."

"Yeah..."

"They're not perfect, Hiroshi. The longer this goes on, the more difficult it will be to keep all their bases covered."

And he knew that. Of course he knew that. But- "How many more will have to die before that happens?"

His father had nothing to say to that, but just glared out at the horizon, at the oranges and pinks of the setting sun, his arms folded across his chest.

"So…" Hiroshi began slowly, grimacing though he couldn't meet his father's eye. "Hana's…alright, right? Rei's taking care of it?"

"Shit…the pup's so shaken, he's making them stay the night at Sesshoumaru's. They've already arranged for Cho to escort Eri and Hana to the North tomorrow, where they'll stay with Kouga and Ayame until things are a little bit safer. Eri's pissed as _hell_."

Hiroshi winced at the idea of Rei being so thoroughly separated from the family he doted on. "It…it's for the best."

Inuyasha studied him for a long moment, face unreadable. "That's what Sesshoumaru said." He clapped him on the shoulder, the universal sign that their argument was over in Inuyasha's world. "Let's go inside, pup." He paused when his son made no move to follow him, and waited curiously. There were words stuck in his throat. Inuyasha could feel them waiting to be voiced, and he didn't have to wait long.

"About Rei… I think he needs to take a break… Something's wrong—these murders are getting under his skin. And I'm not just talking about today. This has been going on for a while. Almost a year, now."

"Rei's a good pup," Inuyasha said at last. "He's soft, but that's not always a bad thing. I'm impressed to see a full-blooded youkai who's _that_ in-tune with humanity and that incapable of distancing himself from... Well." He sighed again, shrugging half-heartedly. "Sesshoumaru's noticed. Rei refused a suggested break a few months ago, and he hasn't asked him since."

"Don't you think it needs to be addressed again?"

"Believe it or not, my ass-hat of a brother actually knows what he's doing," the hanyou admitted grudgingly. "Rei realizes it, too. He sees and deals with some horrible shit every day. But he also knows he's being preened for the role of Inu no Taisho. It might not be pleasant, but it's necessary."

"I'm not saying it's not. I just think he could...use a few days off. I'm not sure he's in the right place to just let things continue as they've been going. He's losing confidence in himself, or-I don't know. He's changing."

"Rei's not the only one, you know," Inuyasha told him, face unreadable as he studied his son. "You've been acting different lately, too… You know that, right?" When the young hanyou pretended not to hear him, he continued. "So, you gonna tell me what's wrong or am I going to have to go beat it out of Miroku?"

There was a dry snort and a bitter smile. "I must have the nosiest family in the entirety of Japan," he mused, and Inuyasha glared indignantly at him.

"Like hell," he shot back before considering it. "Well... Maybe your mother and sister... But seriously, Hiroshi. What's going on?"

"Other than all that work down the drain? All those hours I could have spent just...doing my job instead of preparing for this goddamned useless 'mission'?" he muttered under his breath, aware that his father was more than capable of hearing.

"Don't feed me that bullshit, Hiro. You've been walking around with a dead bug up your ass for the past week."

Another snort and a sarcastic, "Thanks," and Inuyasha's eyes sharpened, and he hesitated before asking, "Is it bothering you again?" He watched the wry amusement fade into that trademark vague geniality, and his brows furrowed. And he thought he saw a gleam of resentment in Hiroshi's identical eyes, but it was gone before he'd processed it.

"I'm fine, Father."

The old man bit back a heavy sigh and nodded for Hiroshi's sake. "Yeah. I know you are."

"If that's all, I'm going to go back to my house. Rest is a luxury I haven't been afforded in the last few weeks."

Inuyasha chuckled before shifting tactics. "Yeah, yeah... And listen, I've learned a thing or two from my time with your mother. It's best to just apologize to Julia for whatever shit is going on between you two-" His eyes widened in surprise when Hiroshi whipped his head around to snarl at his father-and meant it. He watched as the fury quickly tempered into solid irritation with Hiroshi's lip looking suspiciously like it still ached to curl back over his teeth.

"Well, I'll be damned..." Inuyasha mused quietly before chuckling again. "She's got you that bad, huh?"

Hiroshi was still glaring, but not at his father. "Don't worry about it."

"Who said I was worried? Just interesting, is all..."

"Yes. Well," Hiroshi bit out curtly. "I'm going now."

"When you talk to her, apologize for whatever happened, even if it wasn't your fault-and it probably was. Shit's not worth it." Hiroshi had already turned to leave the yard, and Inuyasha watched his back appraisingly before adding. "If there's a chance that this is gonna go any farther-and you're the best judge of that-might as well tell her everything, yeah? Seems to me like she's in it for the long-haul now."

Hiroshi already had his back turned, so Inuyasha didn't see the surprise written across his face at his blessing, though he did notice the brief falter of his step as he took his leave.

The hanyou grinned at his son and called out, "She'll probably love the ears, anyway. So be prepared for that."

And shaking his head, he made his way back inside to his mate.

* * *

He was going crazy. He knew it. Fuck, he _knew_ it—insane. She was driving him _insane_.

Hiroshi paced back and forth in his living room as his best friend watched, torn between concern and amusement.

"Maybe…maybe if you call her?" Miroku suggested from his spot on the couch, rubbing at the back of his neck.

The pacing stopped momentarily. "You think I haven't fucking tried?" he snapped before sighing, and resuming his stalking like a caged animal with an apologetic glance at the kitsune hanyou. "She won't answer. She won't answer her door or her phone…" When he heard his front door open and shut, he cast a glare at the empty entry way, and waited for his cousin to make his way into the room. "I have got to change my locks," he muttered, and Miroku grinned as Rei entered.

"You probably should," he agreed with a smile. "You hand out copies of your key like they're business cards. Hey, Rei."

"Hey." The dark-haired youkai settled on the couch next to his nephew and nodded at the irate hanyou ignoring him. "What's his problem?"

"He misses Julia's body…count," Miroku teased quietly, sobering when Hiroshi stared at him incredulously.

"Did you just make a _sex_ joke—no, wait… Did you just make a sex joke into a _Halo_ reference…?" he asked, disbelieving and temporarily distracted from his own misery. "At _my_ expense?"

Rei flashed a quick, tired grin at the kitsune. "Nicely done, Miroku. What's happened with Julia?"

"She's sort of...mad at him," he hedged.

"I'm sure she's not too thrilled with you either," Hiro grumbled, and Miroku shot him a clearly unhappy glance.

"That's entirely different. And entirely your fault." And his cousin couldn't deny it.

"I see... So... you two are-were _dating_ then? How is it possible that between Mimi and Kagome, at the very least, this didn't reach my ears?"

"Fuck," was all Hiroshi bothered mumbling before he resumed his pacing again.

"They haven't really told them," Miroku informed Rei quietly.

"Ah..."

Hiroshi had visited her apartment earlier after work-stayed until nightfall before giving up. If she was in the apartment, she wasn't coming out to talk to him yet. '_A few more days,_' he'd been telling himself. '_I'll give her a few more days to cool off._' But when the month was up, he would visit her while working and pull her off set if he needed to.

Comforting himself with the idea that she'd come around, he took a deep breath and mentally shook off the cagey-ness and agitation he was feeling. She shouldn't be able to affect his moods so completely, should she?

It wasn't normal or healthy...

He could feel himself getting wound up again, and immediately put a stop to it, turning to smile suddenly, wanly at his newly-arrived cousin. "How are you holding up? Talk to Eri today?"

If Rei was shaken by the swift change in mood, he didn't comment. "I did. They arrived at Kouga's late last night. Ayame took them out all day to show them around and take their mind off things," he told them lightly, though neither missed his easy dismissal of the first question. "Hana's having fun playing with their grandchildren-what's the youngest daughter's name? I can never remember..."

"Akako."

"Right..." Miroku's brow furrowed when Rei visibly started out of his daze to paste on a smirk. "So, do you have any plans tonight? I'm not quite sure what to do with myself now that I'm living like a bachelor again."

And Hiroshi understood and sympathized because the youkai had come to them hoping for distraction-for a moment when the absence of his mate and child didn't completely consume his thoughts.

"We could pretend it's a Friday, and play Halo."

Ten minutes later, the night proved to hold other plans for the trio, however, when Kannon arrived with a 'Sup, bitches?' and a twelve-pack of illegally-acquired beer. "The old man told me you were relaxing. Thought I'd help. Texted Shippou, by the way," he told them as he made his way into Hiro's kitchen without waiting for them to acknowledge his presence. "He'll be over in twenty-Christ, Hiro! You're out of ramen _again_. How does this shit happen?"

Hiroshi rolled his eyes impatiently, un-pausing the game again. "Thought you weren't talking to me," he reminded his obnoxious brother while Miroku stuck Rei with a grenade and dashed away.

Kannon emerged from the kitchen moments later with a canned soft drink and cold four-day old take-out. "I still think you're sorry as hell, and I haven't forgiven you, but I don't have plans tonight. And that stick that's shoved so far up that narrow ass could always use a little nudge. Or kick." He toed the power button of the gaming console just as Miroku was going in for another kill. "Turn that shit off. You guys are so sad," was all it took to shrug off the kitsune's livid insults and Rei's relief. "We're gonna play poker. The old man's on his way, too."

The three exchanged glances before Rei shrugged and offered a nod. "I do love taking Kannon and Shippou's money-the way they limp through a tournament..." Gold eyes gleamed wickedly at the young hanyou, and the youkai asked, "You sure you want to play poker? You just _gave_ me three hundred dollars last time..."

"Keh... _Gave,_ my ass. Just let you borrow it, you pussy-whipped bitch. And don't worry about me-I'll get it back."

There was a snort, and Hiroshi reached over to grab the phone to order a few pizzas. "I'm sure you'll try by upping the ante or going all-in over shit hands, like you usually do-Pepperoni and meat-lovers okay with everyone?"

Three hours later, and it was Hiroshi and Rei competing for the jackpot while the others watched, talked and ate rapidly cooling pizza.

"I'll see your fifty and raise you twenty," Hiroshi mumbled, tossing a couple of chips into the pot. There was something soothingly methodic about losing himself to the game and pizza and beer. It gave him a moment of respite from his situation with Julia, and it was such a _relief_ to not be so frustrated. For a moment-if only a moment-he regained complete control over his emotions.

"_Christ_, Hiro... That can't be the best you got..." Inuyasha complained, wincing.

"You were the first to bow out," Hiroshi reminded his father blandly, glancing over his cards again and calculating Rei's poker face. "Even Kannon lasted longer than you, which means that your advice isn't necessary right now."

While they played, Shippou was purposefully being an ass, showing off his complete control over his foxfire, and pretending to singe the youngest hanyou's hair, which was funny to him until he actually did burn it. Then it was hysterical, the foul odor permeating the air.

"Will you stop with that shit?" Kannon snapped, knocking his arm and the flame it bore away from his face. Which, in hindsight, wasn't the brightest idea. Before Shippou could catch himself, the flame was thrown out of his grasp, claiming the ceiling as they all watched in stunned silence.

It took no more than a second for gravity, and the damage done by the incinerating ball, to take effect.

"Son of a _bitch_!" Shippou yelped, arms folding protectively over his own head as part of the roof literally began to fall on and around them in an explosion of shattered wood, cracked ceiling, and burning embers.

The lot of them, speechless and white with ceiling silt, waited on edge for an explosion from the unwilling host and owner of said destroyed living room, only growing more nervous when it never came. Instead, he said nothing-just watched the thick dust swirl in the air around them. Even Inuyasha couldn't find any words other than a pitying glance at his weary and resigned oldest son. "Well, shit, pup..."

Shippou seemed to recover swiftly, immediately setting about casting some of the inevitable ire away from himself. "Kannon, you moron-look what you did!"

Mouth wide with indignation, the pup could only marvel at how quickly the kitsune was able to throw him under the bus. "What_ I _did? _You're_ the retard playing with explosives in a fuckin' _house_! Aren't you supposed to be _ancient_? Where is your common sense?"

"-If you hadn't knocked it out of my-"

"-You were _burning my goddamn hair-_-"

"-Not blaming this on-"

"-The hell-"

"Will you two please shut up?" Rei asked briskly, sweeping debris from his shoulder, and stirring another cloud of still-settling dust. Through the hole in the roof over his head and the fog of minuscule, airborne debris, he could clearly make out the sky full of stars.

Looking around him, Miroku winced, carefully stepping over a heap of rubble to make his way to a particular piece of flaming wood that had fallen nerve-wrackingly close to a synthetic fur rug. Once extinguished, he turned back to his still silent cousin. "I, um, know a guy... that can fix this," he offered, trying for reassurance.

Inuyasha was shaking his head in disbelief. "You two are the biggest morons I think I've ever seen," he muttered before grasping Hiro's shoulder. "You can stay at the house until this mess gets fixed up. I'm sure Shippou's gonna get right on contacting that guy 'Roku knows. Isn't that right?"

Startled out of his daze by the threatening crack of Inuyasha's knuckles, Hiroshi murmured, "Only a month ago, my life was so..._together_... What the hell happened?"

Inuyasha chuckled grimly before demanding that everyone 'get the hell out-party's over.' And as they walked to the house he grew up in with Kannon jogging ahead, the older hanyou muttered knowingly, "Your mother's gonna try to convince you to move back in. Fuckin' ignore it, pup. I'm trying to boot the other two out of the house-not have another one move back in."

Hiroshi laughed without reserve-the first time in a while. "You couldn't pay me enough to move back in that fucking house," he teased back, only half-joking.

"Yeah, yeah-I know. The twins are enough to drive anyone insane."

Hiro shook his head with a smirk. "The twins, my ass."

"I'm liking this new mouth of yours, asshole," Inuyasha grouched at the implication. "I don't feel like such a caveman next to you right now."

Hiroshi shrugged. "I'm more than capable of censoring myself when necessary." And what did Inuyasha have to say to that?

"Yeah, I know you are."

* * *

Abigail smiled serenely at her daughter when Julia shut the front door behind her, carefully shifting a bag of take-out to her hip before walking over to kiss the woman's cheek. "Hey Mama." Her father was sitting on the worn couch watching TV, and graced her with an over-the-shoulder glance before his attention was returned to Wheel of Fortune.

She clutched at a mug of water with both hands. "Hello, sweetie. How was school? Did you make any new friends?"

"I was at work, Mama," she responded. "Remember?" She thought about Prince Charming's lips awkwardly fumbling against hers in today's shoot as bright lights glared at them in a stifling hot forest setting. And unfortunately, Suya was arrogant enough to enjoy his own stench, so her nose was clogged with body odor that the simple application of deodorant would have taken care of. The entire scene had made her feel uncomfortable, however unprofessional her unvoiced discomfort was. But she still enjoyed the experience and exposure, and at least the shoot was wrapping up.

The woman's smile tightened, and Julia could see that she didn't remember, but would never admit as much. "Oh, that's right... How silly of me."

"I'm Snow White," Julia offered anyway as her mother followed her to the kitchen to watch her unload the pre-cooked meals. "We filmed the kiss scene today."

"Oh my goodness! With that handsome boy?"

"No," she began slowly, "I don't think you've seen him before... Who are you talking about?"

"I..." Abigail paused, suddenly frustrated, before asking what was for dinner. "You know I can always whip something up if you're hungry."

"Oh, I know, Mama. I just thought I'd surprise you. We can eat and talk."

"Have you seen your brother lately?" she asked the moment Julia fell silent.

"Not in a few days. But I talked to him on the phone today on my break."

Her mother grabbed a handful of the nightgown she was wearing and twisted the fabric with a look of consternation playing across her face. "I wish you'd tell him to come visit every now and then. I'd hate to think he forgot about me."

"Mama, Jackson brought you dinner last night. He told me he stayed for a couple of hours. Remember?"

The woman looked immensely embarrassed, but smiled sheepishly. "I'm sorry, sweetie. My memory..." she mumbled before changing the subject again to draw attention away from herself. "So who was this man you kissed today and how was it?"

"His name is Suya, and he's playing Prince Charming. And it was awful," Julia admitted with a laugh. "I pity his girlfriend."

"Oh dear... Are you friends with him?"

"Not really. He's really arrogant and stuck-up. He's horrible to the crew..."

"Well, that's not nice... Someone should really tell him to mind his manners."

Julia smiled at the beautiful innocence. "I agree, Mama."

"Are you seeing anyone, dear? Isn't there some nice man you've been telling me about for a while now?" Abigail looked hesitant, unable to be sure that she hadn't imagined or dreamed up this mystery man.

"Not...not _really_," Julia stressed, hoping her mother would rise above her spell and pick up on the subtext-that she would be a mother and let Julia talk and vent and offer her comforting and sage advice on boys and broken hearts as most mothers were apt to do. But she didn't, so Julia let her wounds fester.

"Well, don't worry." Abigail laid a lovely, fragile hand on her shoulder in a manner meant to comfort, and the young woman immediately dreaded what was inevitably about to be said. "One day you'll find someone you love as much as _I_ love your father. And you'll be _so_ happy."

Julia wanted to cry.

* * *

_This scene is followed by the final scene of "The Pain." Only, there are some minor changes and logistic errors... I've miscalculated the time of the year as far as the twins' schooling goes, and Hiroshi currently has short hair that he's in the process of stripping black dye out of, lol. _

_I hope you're not all too mad/disappointed with the total collapse of Hiroshi's 'mission.' But it sort of needed to happen. Anyway, this feels like the most pointless chapter I've ever written, but the next chapter! That's more of what you're all waiting for... And it's pretty much finished-it just needs a thorough editing. So I'll try to have it up a week from now, tops._

* * *

**_Quotes of Randomness:_**

_"By definition, a human being is endowed with free will. He can use this to choose between good and evil. If he can only perform good or only perform evil, then he is a clockwork orange—meaning that he has the appearance of an organism lovely with colour and juice but is in fact only a clockwork toy to be wound up … It is as inhuman to be totally good as it is to be totally evil. The important thing is moral choice." -Anthony Burgess (A Clockwork Orange)_

_Limousine Driver in London: Would you like me to take the Chiswick roundabout through Hounslow and Staines?  
Aaron: What is this, fucking Middle Earth? Just take us to the airport, okay. _

_-Get Him to the Greek_


	15. Caution to the Wind

_Chapter 15: Caution to the Wind_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha._

* * *

_It's never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder._

_It's never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her._

_It's never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter._

_-"Lover, You Should've Come Over" by Jeff Buckley_

* * *

_First, thank you for the lovely reviews-they mean more to me than you can know._

_Secondly, thank you to the amazing Kate for proofreading this chapter for me! You're awesome!_

_Third-So I watched "Red Eye" again the other day for the first time in a while, and I was stunned when I realized that Jackson Ripner (Cillian Murphy) as he is portrayed in the first twenty minutes is essentially Hiroshi. Seriously._

_**Warning**: There will be some citrus in this chapter. But you already know that this story is rated 'M', says 'fuck' every other line, and has disturbing and graphic violence, so at this point, nothing should offend you, lol._

* * *

She released a breath she didn't know she'd been holding when the trees slowly revealed the house as she rounded the bend. Her relief puzzled her—it wasn't like she'd expected an entire house to just disappear over the course of the past month. She also didn't know what she expected by coming here. Hiroshi wouldn't be home—and honestly, that's the only reason she'd finally given in to this irrational urge—for at least another two weeks. Supposedly.

There was a sharp twang in her chest that was dulled only by the sight of his jeep in front of the house. And for a moment, she nearly turned tail and fled before she remembered that his father had some hand in…_whatever_ it was he was doing. He shouldn't have needed his own vehicle. Assuming he hadn't lied about that, as well.

'_Am I seriously doing this?_' she asked herself, the blade of his house key burning a jagged outline in her palm as she clenched it tightly, carefully shutting her car door behind her. '_Yes. I am. Because I'm an idiot. A total masochist._'

She stepped onto the porch, and stopped in front of the door, weighing her options. '_I can break into his house for old time's sake, and feel better for a little while, suffer for it later. Or I can bear through it, cold turkey—I'm a big girl; I can do this,_' she reasoned, even as her body betrayed her, and the key slid into the lock. She started at the deafening click that broke the unearthly silence.

On the other side of the door, Hiroshi had long since been frozen, mid-stride several feet away from the doorway. He'd been heading to the kitchen when her scent hit him with the force of a freight train, and it frightened him how much difficulty he was having staying put rather than run with his instinct: drag her into his arms and bury himself into her scent until he was drugged.

'_Do I have a say in this?_' the voice interrupted, impatient.

'_Oh, you're _asking_ now? How considerate. Asshole._'

Miroku stuck his head out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "Do I smell Julia?" –and then the door opened.

He flinched at her startled cry—her key falling from a jerky hand as she reacted to the kitsune's movement, which she obviously hadn't been expecting. …But then again, Hiro hadn't expected her to come to him—the way she'd looked at him last time, the way she ignored his calls on her phone and to her apartment... Her racing heart slowed the smallest bit when her large eyes met his shocked ones and recognition set in.

For a long, long moment, neither said nor did anything as they stared at each other—frozen deer in headlights while a frantic Zooey scrambled around her legs, whining for her attention. And both started when the forgotten Miroku cleared his throat. "I'd better get going. See you later, Hiro." He skirted past his unmoving cousin, and smiled at the woman as he neared her. "Nice to have you back, Jules." The doorknob that her forgotten hand was clamped around was pulled away from her as the kit closed the door behind him, leaving them alone.

Julia suddenly realized how very, very stupid she really was. And cowardly, too. She wanted to bolt now more than anything, and Hiroshi seemed to pick up on that.

"What are you—what are you doing here?" he finally asked, voice hoarse.

She smiled nervously, dropping to her knees and fingers agitatedly scratching the dog as her face occasionally jerked out of reach of the enormous pink tongue "I didn't think…you'd be here," she admitted quietly. A free hand groped behind her for the key she'd dropped.

"…I live here." He caught a glimpse of her dry scowl before it was usurped by her acute discomfort, which was killing him.

"I thought you'd still be gone—on your 'business trip'."

He shifted on his feet. "It was cancelled."

She smiled bitterly, and spoke to Zooey. "Of course it was."

"_Dammit_, Julia!" he snarled before he exhaled slowly and masked his fury in a brisk impatience. "What are you doing here?" he asked again, crossing his arms over his chest as she rose to her feet once again.

Her cheeks flushed, and she snapped her head to the side to avoid his gaze as she crossed her arms defensively as well. Time to call in the cavalry—her sarcasm came to her defense. "Isn't it obvious? I'm breaking and entering." Her scowl lost its strength when he found himself unable to feign indifference. Now he just looked sad and concerned.

"You may want to try another house, then. You have your own key—you can't call this breaking and entering."

"I gave you your key back," she murmured.

"Right before I gave it right back to you."

She rubbed some warmth into her bare arms as silence fell between them again, and neither moved to close the distance. Finally she boldly met and held his golden gaze, her stomach lurching at the complete misery she found there. And she felt nauseated when she suddenly realized that she was her mother's daughter.

She'd take him back, and let him keep lying to her—not about that girl. She believed him when he promised nothing had happened. He could keep lying to her about who he was, though, and what he did when she wasn't with him.

"I came because I missed your—_the_ bed." She didn't flinch even when his eyes widened, and continued to push forward. "I haven't been able to sleep, and I thought you were gone, and…yeah."

"Julia," he finally said evenly, "I know I can fix this if you'll let me. I'm not your father. And you are _not_ your mother. Please."

And she would never understand him—she wanted to cry. "…Am I honestly _worth_ this? You could have any woman you wanted—"

"I don't _want_ 'any woman'. I want _you_."

"_Why_?"

He grabbed at his short hair in aggravation before freezing and pinning her with a look that managed to be both aggravated and anguished. "You are the most _frustrating_ woman I've _ever_ met—"

She gaped at him. "Is that supposed to _win me over_?"

"I'm not this person!" he told her with what she considered to be calm hysteria as he tugged pointedly on his shirt. His voice was low, but the tone urgent. "I _don't_ pull out my hair; I _don't_ get angry; I _don't_ lose sleep or meals over a stupid argument; and I _don't_ beg! How are you able to make me _do_ all of these things?" He stared into her wide eyes, brow wrinkling in hurt. "And how can _you_ walk away so easily when it's damn near _killing_ me?"

She was moving before she even realized it, and didn't try to stop herself from walking into him, face pressed against his chest and arms by her side as she just leaned against him. His sharp inhalation was closely followed by his arms enveloping her as he folded and molded himself around her, tucking her against him. "Who said it was easy?" She sighed and tilted her head when his mouth was suddenly against the juncture between her shoulder and neck. And he held her like that for a long time—could have been minutes or hours—calming himself with the familiar scent of honey and—

"I just don't understand…_why_," she murmured, confused and _sad_. "I don't understand why you would _hide_ from me like that."

"I know I messed up, Julia," he finally began, his voice slightly muffled against her throat as he stooped over her. "I didn't handle the situation in the best manner, but I told myself that it was a necessary evil."

"But _why_?" she urged.

"I used to be…" He sighed against her damp flesh, and she shuddered. "For the past few years, my life revolved around my job. Other than my family, I didn't have a personal life—I didn't want one, didn't have _time_ for one. Then you stumbled into the picture," he told her before chuckling dryly. "I couldn't brush you off like everyone else, and it was a distraction." Sensing her sudden irritation, his arms tightened around her before she could try to pull away. "It's surprisingly difficult for me to ignore you, and I know that sounds cold, but at the time, entirely _too_ _much_ was riding on this month. I _needed_ to focus all of my attention on my job. It was easier to just remove the temptation of being with you."

"And you couldn't have just told me that?" she asked pointedly, and he squeezed her briefly.

"I didn't want you to worry. And I didn't want to tell you to stay away."

She was quiet for a moment, chin resting on his stooped shoulder. "What you did was much worse, Hiroshi…" she told him quietly.

She'd never be able to see from their current position, but he flushed with shame. "I know…"

She hummed thoughtfully, and considered his soft tone, considered his regret. "So you really were planning on leaving town?"

"It's complicated. I was planning on staying in town, but I wouldn't be where you or my family could reach me."

"For a business trip?"

"Of sorts." His answer was apologetic, and she tried not to be aggravated by the deliberate vagueness of it. "…It may have been more dangerous a trip than I initially led you to believe," he relented at last, and she seemed to sag against him.

"And the woman?"

With a pang of annoyance, she felt his light laughter against her throat. "If I ever lie to you, it will only be because I'm trying to protect you. I would never lie to you about something like that—about a _woman_. There will never _be_ another woman for me to lie about."

She finally moved in his arms, lifting her hands to lightly grip his hips at the surprising confession. "I know," she whispered thickly.

"Do you really? Because you accused me of fucking an old family friend and colleague. You saw us together and that was the first thing that popped into you head? That I'd betray you?"

Her fingers dug into the canvas of his jeans. "No, it—it was never about the woman… I mean…it _did_ hurt to see you at your parents' with some strange woman after telling me you were too busy to see me…"

"I was working, Jules. I didn't lie about that."

"It didn't look like you were working…" she grumbled, and he laughed again, low and soft.

"Her name is Cho, and she's a general from the north. She was helping me prepare… Also, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not her type. _Not_ that I was interested anyway," he hurried to add, and her fleeting smile was genuine for the first time since she'd walked through the door. But then she picked up on the implication.

"A _general_ was helping you prepare for your trip… Jesus, Hiro—_what_ are you involved in?"

He held her close, back bowed and bending her body with and against his. "I think we have a lot to talk about…"

"…Don't you think you should pry your face away from my neck if that's the case?"

"Don't you think you should at least _try_ to play nice?" he retorted dryly. "These past two weeks have been hell, so just give me a minute."

Small hands ran from his hips to his back, and she held him silently, smiling when he gave her another gentle squeeze. "…You really missed me?"

"As though that weren't glaringly obvious," he muttered, but then she felt all pretenses fade, and he finally pulled away to look down at her. "Yes," he said quietly.

"Good," she whispered. "I don't know what I'd have done if you'd said no."

Cupping her face in his palms, he placed a lingering kiss on her forehead, and when she felt his lips move against her skin, her eyes glassed over with tears that refused to fall. "I can't tell you how sorry I am about your birthday—about _everything_."

She sniffled and pulled away to wave away his concern with a tremulous smile. "You can be pretty clueless, but don't worry. I'll let you make it up to me."

His lips tilted into a melancholy half-smile as he studied her, curls wild and ruffled around her shoulders, eyes so bright and blue and alert, even with the dark circles under them. Petty, and playful, and vindictive, and light-She was just so fucking _perfect_ with all of her many imperfections… It was almost painful for him to take in. He was just so grateful she was even talking to him now, and the intensity of that relief was frightening, too. "I fully intend to. I _did_ get you something if you'd like it now."

"Another apple pie?" she teased, but he noticed the caution in her voice, and it didn't sit well with him. "That's sweet, but first we talk."

"First we talk," he agreed, arms unfolding to grant her freedom before he led her to the living room sofa, Zooey following dutifully with his tongue lolling.

"My job," he began hesitantly, "can be dangerous. The people I deal with can be dangerous. But I don't want you to worry," Hiroshi hurried to add at the look on her face. "I'm very good at what I do, and I'm not alone."

Her pink lips were plumped from her chewing on them. "I should have asked you this a long time ago, but what…_exactly_ do you do? And I don't want the standard 'investigator' answer," she clarified sullenly.

"But that's what I do, it's what I am. I investigate murder cases. I get _answers_ for my father and his department."

"And what does your father do?"

"He uses what I give him, and then finds them—the perpetrators."

She considered this for a moment before narrowing her eyes on him suspiciously. "…That doesn't sound _too_ dangerous…"

His smile was small but assuring. "Good."

"It sounds like Inuyasha got the short end of that straw." Waving away his quiet chuckles, she tried to continue with her train of thought. A small hand absently stroked Zooey's head when the giant puppy plopped it in her lap. "Why do I feel like you're still not telling me everything?"

"Because I'm not. Julia, I haven't always been honest with you—and you _know_ that. I don't or can't always tell you everything. But I want you to trust me."

"It's not that I don't trust you, Hiroshi," she muttered after a long pause. "It's just… Don't _you_ trust _me_?"

Moving closer, he reached out for her, pausing long enough for her consent before he slowly pulled her into their first real kiss in weeks—long and drugging—a kiss that soothed them booth. Forehead against hers and eyes still closed, he murmured, "More than you'd believe… Come back… _Please_."

Julia had known from the moment she first walked through the door that she would forgive him and take him back. It was inevitable—she was her mother's daughter and she was also selfish, choosing him over her own self-respect. But it was his '_please'_ that ultimately did her in. More specifically, it was the tone in that '_please_.' Shocked, Julia was suddenly all too aware that he _needed_ her, _loved_ her even—even if he didn't say it or realize it himself .

At that moment, everything was forgiven, and she loved him more than ever.

Clenching the cotton of his t-shirt, Julia made a noise in the back of her throat and nodded. Her mind floundered when his lips were on hers again in a frenzied and desperate kiss, more fumbling and unsure than she'd ever felt from him as Zooey was waved away without breaking contact. Hiroshi's hands ran down her back and under her backside—_that perfect, perfect ass_, it pointed out with a happy, teasing leer—to lift her up and into his lap as the forgotten dog padded off to sulk or destroy another bathroom. And even as his lips were hard and burning against hers, she felt the restraint behind it more than ever. He was practically trembling with it, and when he broke away, he pulled her close again, into another soul-clenching hug that she sensed was more for his own comfort.

Julia wasn't sure when the tables of this visit had turned, but she was relieved to be the comforter rather than the comfort-ee—it didn't make her feel so disadvantaged. So she whispered soothing words and held him back, running her fingers up and down his back, no longer covered in silver silk—which reminded her…

"Your hair," she murmured softly, pushing away to run a hand through it and watching mesmerized as it just barely rounded back over each finger. It was the first time she'd acknowledged his altered appearance out loud.

"You sound disappointed," he teased, before promising, "It will grow back. I'm sort of getting used to it now, though."

"No—I didn't mean… I love the cut," she said at last, and she meant it, which surprised her. "Maybe more now than before. It shows off your face. Your smile is just a little more…devastating this way."

"But…" he pressed, smirking as blood rushed to her face.

She chewed on her bottom lip, hesitating for a moment. "But… I mean, you still look handsome—I'm not saying you don't, so don't let this hurt your feelings…"

"I'm sure it won't."

"But… I prefer your old hair color," she admitted at last. "I'm not sure _what_ is with this charcoal grey look you've got going on…"

He laughed and ran a hand over his hair. "I've been trying to strip the dye out with this shampoo Kimiko gave me," he admitted sheepishly. "So far, it's not been a total success. But please—feel free to continue with my '_devastating smile'_."

"And _there's_ the ego I've missed."

He nearly groaned when she resituated herself in his lap, hitting a little too close to home. "…I doubt any part of me is as devastating as you are," he admitted, and she laughed-he'd forgotten how much he missed the sound, forgot how light it made him feel.

Somehow the fierce slip of a woman had managed to equate herself with levity, and without her, he could feel the tension rising, rising...

If he was stronger, had just a little more control over himself and his emotions, he never would have allowed this to happen. He never would have allowed himself to depend on anyone, let alone a woman that he wanted so badly.

He'd always been_ so careful_.

But fuck it-if he was damning himself, he was going to do it completely. And enjoy it.

He could feel it boiling excitedly in his blood. '_You're going through with it, then?_' It was a sneer-one meant to mask its palpable excitement.

'_I think-_' he paused, closing his eyes when her lips found his mid-thought, '_I think I have to..._'

'_All this talk about needing and depending, fuckin'-A right, you do._'

"Julia," he breathed when her lips traveled to his Adam's apple, and her hands snuck under his shirt to splay greedily across the hard, hot flesh and muscles of his stomach, a finger brushing over his belly button. "Julia," he repeated a bit more firmly as he gently pushed her back, keeping a light grip on her shoulders. "We still have to talk, remember?"

"Now?" she whined once her expression cleared, and he refrained from smirking at her, choosing to roll his eyes instead, though he was feeling far from confident.

"Yes, now."

"But…_now_?" she pressed again.

"This is important."

Her eyebrows drew together at the sudden strained calm in his tone, as though he were trying to hide his agitation from her.

He nearly swore when she swallowed nervously and nodded once, her hands still spread under his shirt as she stared up at him and waited. He could feel his nerves failing him as he met the uneasy pale blue that made him shiver.

When she was able to feel his turmoil, she squirmed against him, her hands slipping out from under his shirt. "What is this about, Hiro?"

He shrugged, and tried to offer her a small smile that left her blanching. "I told you I'd try to fix it…" His face was suddenly trapped between her hands, and she tugged him down for a brief but reassuring kiss.

"You don't have to tell me anything until you're _ready_. Just…you know…make sure you tell me _someday_…"

He trapped her hands against his cheeks. "You're giving me an out?"

He seemed amused, though he was still clearly agitated. She nodded.

"Thank you, Jules, but I… It's time we talked, isn't it? It's been a year in the making." He sighed. "But I need you to keep an open mind, and just…just remember that I'm still me, alright? I'd never hurt you."

"You're kind of scaring me," she admitted quietly, and he shot her a pained look—like he fully expected her to change her mind about him. A shock of unbridled fear coursed through her, and she twisted enough to yank him into another kiss, her lips fumbling against his until he was cradling her face in an infinitely gentle, yet desperate way.

"I don't have a whole lot of friends, and I don't plan on getting rid of my best one," she teased, nervous, and he smiled sadly at her.

"Just…remember that for me, okay?" He waited for her nod before he realized that he had absolutely no idea how to begin. Eventually three minutes had passed since the last words had left his mouth, and the woman beside him looked ready to jump out of her skin she was so antsy. What was he supposed to say? He needed to break it to her gently, he needed to be careful and sensitive, and—

"I'm not _completely_ human."

There was a long, shocked silence, in which he realized what he'd said, and how it had sounded.

'_You are such an asshole, Hiro. …Unbelievable—even **I** have more tact than **that**. What **was** that?_'

He stared into her wide, stunned eyes, and faltered. '_I…have no idea. …I was improvising._'

"You are such an asshole, Hiro," she snapped suddenly, and his eyes widened at the familiar words. "Unbelievable." The voice was clearly laughing now as she glared at him, her hands releasing him to cross over her chest as she plopped back against the couch in an entirely disgruntled way. "I thought you were going to be _serious_, you jerk—you had me worrying, and—"

"That did not come out like I intended it to…"

"_Really_? Well, that's comforting to know. Ass."

"Julia. Just listen, okay?"

Her mouth snapped shut with an audible click, and she stared in wonderment at the complete somberness of his fine features, the nervous agitation that he tried to mask.

"I'm not lying. I'm a hanyou."

She snorted, tossing him a cynical smirk. "What—like from your father's stories?" she asked flatly.

"Actually, yes. _Exactly_ like from my father's stories."

If he didn't know any better, he'd say she almost looked appalled, and fear made him squirm in his seat beside her. "Hiroshi. This isn't funny."

He winced at the humorless aggravation in her tone now. "Like I said—just try to keep an open mind."

She was still glaring at him, though it was half-hearted and suspicious now. "You don't look like a hanyou," she pointed out, and he smiled at her, though it was strained.

"Then you don't know what a hanyou looks like." he told her lightly before he remembered that she wasn't seeing him as he really was, anyway.

There was an aggravated sigh, and she raised her eyebrows pointedly, refusing to unlock her arms from around her chest. "Alright. I'll bite and _consider_ that my boyfriend may be part ghost, part demon, and part human—"

He did laugh at that, but the look she shot him ended that quickly enough. "Ghosts have nothing to do with this, Jules. You know what a youkai is, right? Did my parents explain them to you?"

"Yes, but… Hmm…"

"They can be called demons, but not in the way that most Americans define them."

"And you're really serious about this…" she asked again—more quietly this time, staring absently at the hand he placed on her knee.

"Yes." When her eyes—so blue, so searching—met his, he found it difficult not to look away. After an uncomfortably long moment of silence, he removed his hand from her knee to rub the back of his neck nervously. "I'm sorry," he murmured, "this is new for me. …I don't really know what to say next."

There was a slight quirk to her lips. "You mean, you've never told anyone else that you're not 'completely human'?" And he shrugged.

"I've never had to. Youkai and hanyou see me for what I am. I've never told a human before…"

'_This is crazy—insane_,' she thought before studying the anxious look on his face once again. Hiroshi was never nervous, she remembered as her stomach sank and nausea struck. '_I can't believe I'm even considering this—goddammit._'

Julia relented with a sigh. "So… There are different kinds of youkai and hanyou, right?" She hid her smile when his stunned eyes snapped back to attention, and he nodded because his voice failed him when she scooted closer so that her folded knees overlapped his. "Well, what kind are you? That's not a taboo question or anything is it?"

Years and years of maintaining his composure couldn't hide his amazement from her at the moment. "You _believe_ me?"

With another long sigh, her shoulders sagged, and she shrugged. "I suppose. But _only_ because it's _you_ telling me—_mmph_! "

He kissed her hard and fast, quickly pulling back to grin at her, and his excitement was so honest and palpable that he looked younger than he ever had before. She vaguely remembered thinking that she needed to agree with him more often if this was the result…

"But if this is your idea of a joke—it's entirely the wrong time for that, Hiroshi." But she already knew from his reaction—this may be the most honest he'd ever been with her. "Well… Can I guess what kind of…_hanyou_ you are?" she asked dubiously, the word still unfamiliar on her tongue.

"I'm surprised you don't already know, Jules… If you think about it—"

Blue met gold, and he smiled as softly and reassuringly as he ever had. "Inu hanyou… Exactly like from your father's stories…" she breathed.

"I suppose I should say it's my mother's story, too. And my uncle and aunt's. And Shippou's…"

She looked overwhelmed now as his words sank in, and she shook her head to clear it. "You _can't_ mean… You _can't_…" She looked so confused, so out of her element, that a wave of guilt crashed down on the hanyou. "How _old_ are you?" she asked, unable to keep the accusation from her tone. His smile managed to keep her anchored in a reality that clashed violently with fairytales.

"I'm twenty-three, Julia. Almost twenty-four. You haven't made it to the end of the story. Where the inu hanyou and the miko defeat the great evil—Naraku— with the help of their family and friends, and make a home on the other side of the well—the miko's present time…"

"And have three children?" The question came out as a whisper, and he couldn't tell whether she was horrified or amazed.

"And have three children," he agreed, frowning when he felt her aura spike against his, agitation, anxiety, hysteria warring against her own curiosity and awe.

"You know this is crazy, right?" she asked, finally, voice high and bordering hysterical. "I can't believe I believe this. This is… How did I not _know_ about this? How _many_ of you are there today?" She started when he carefully grabbed her shoulders, but then melted into his touch.

"It's alright, Julia," was all he said, those deep, deep eyes burning through hers, and she instantly felt some of his calm ebb away her rising panic. Her hand found his on one of her shoulders and she squeezed it appreciatively. "And to answer your last question, youkai have long adapted to human life. You consort with them every day." He stopped when she held up a silencing palm, forehead knitting together as thoughts raced through her head.

"Okay… So wait… Let's go back to the story—the Shikon no Tama… Who is Shippou in all of this?"

"The orphaned kitsune that joined my parents, Sango the slayer, and Miroku the monk—namesake of the Miroku you know. He fell in love with the human child that Uncle Sesshoumaru and Aunt Kagura took in as their own."

"_Rin_?" she squeaked, disbelieving. "How old is _she_? How can she still be…"

"That's something else we need to talk about…" he hedged, clearly uncomfortable again. "Most youkai and hanyou don't or can't have sex until they find their mate—the one they want to spend the rest of their lives with—"

"How old-fashioned," she teased, and he was grateful that color was finally beginning to leak back into her blanched face.

"You'd think so, wouldn't you? But it has its uses. …Mating is different from human marriage. There is no option of divorce, so the importance of waiting is always stressed from a young age."

"Alright… That doesn't explain why Rin, a human—"

"I'm getting there," he assured her, and she leaned back into the corner of the couch, sliding her feet under his ass until he was sitting on them—something he'd grown used to over the months. "When a youkai—or hanyou—takes a mate-has sex, their souls and fates are permanently entwined, you see?. As long as one lives, so will the other until the youkai, and consequently his or her mate, dies of old age many, many, _many_ years later… Rin was still a teenager when she fell in love with Shippou, and when they became mates, she stopped aging like normal humans. The same thing happened with my mother."

"Oh…" she murmured, not knowing what else to say. Hiroshi had effectively revealed to her a warped version of the fountain of youth. "No wonder you have to be careful with this information…"

"It's a very serious matter. That's why we can't… Not yet," he told her, and she grinned when she caught him actually _blushing_. No, she didn't feel nearly so disadvantaged anymore.

"Not _yet_?" she repeated, amused, and he rolled his eyes at her haughty tone, though his smile was soft.

"Assuming I haven't scared you off with all of this. I'm sure it can be a bit…much."

"I'm still not positive that this isn't all just a dream," she admitted with a sigh, letting her head fall back against the arm of the couch.

"You dream about me?"

She lifted her head enough to send a half-hearted glare in the direction of that now-teasing tone and the raised eyebrow above it. "I like that that's what you got out of that statement… And I don't care if this is just a dream—I am _not_ answering that."

But he looked as satisfied and smug as though she'd just answered in the affirmative anyway, and that was only mildly irritating. "Okay. Alright. Recap: My boyfriend isn't human—_completely_ human," she corrected before he could interrupt her.

"That is," he said, "the gist of it."

"So… Do you have any superpowers?"

He shot her a disbelieving look.

"Super-strength?" she suggested absently, stiffening in shock when his cheeks pinked again. She laughed again, sitting up so fast, he was surprised she didn't suffer whiplash. "_Seriously_? Lift the couch!" she commanded excitedly, patting the cushion between them.

"…You _are_ joking, right?"

"You don't have super-strength?"

He floundered for a moment, stunned before he managed to growl, "I am _not_ a trained poodle—I don't perform on command."

"Oh, come _on_! Swallow your pride, and _show_ me. I want to see!"

And she looked so excited right now, so amazed, that after her absolute loathing fury, her tears, and her doubt, he knew he should be ecstatic that she was talking to him, let alone _believing_ him. He owed her proof anyway. No sane human would be expected to just accept the craziness he'd just spewed.

'_What could it hurt?_' it laughed. _'If she hasn't run yet, she'll probably jump your bones when you show off.'_

'_Right. Because that's what's important right now._'

'_Fuck that, Hiro. Don't pretend you're above wanting her lips around your-'_

'_You really don't have to continue_,' he stated archly.

'**_Cock_**,' it finished with bold, deliberate satisfaction, and he ignored it.

He glared at her with no real censure for a long moment before he lifted himself to his feet, heaving a sigh designed to express his immense irritation. "The couch is awkward to balance," he grumbled as he began heading for the front door. She watched him over her shoulder before bouncing to her feet and chasing after him when the door opened, and his voice broke the silence. "Coming?"

Her eyes bulged when she saw him standing in front of his jeep. "…No way," she breathed. '_There is no way…_'

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he informed himself as he bent to curl a hand under the bumper and straightened, lifting his hand until it was even with his chest and the vehicle was rearing back on its hind wheels. There was the sharp hiss of breath sucking into lungs, and he looked over his shoulder at the amazed woman. 'Believe me now?' his eyes seemed to ask her before he looked away and carefully lowered the jeep until its tires touched ground with a dull thump.

'_Okay… So he really _does_ have superpowers…_' she reasoned calmly before she felt vertigo sweep through her, and nearly lost her footing in the midst of the lightheaded dizziness. "You just lifted the front of your _SUV_ over _five feet off the ground_ with a single hand…"

He turned around to meet her, frowning at the sheet-white face. "Are you okay? I told you—I'd never hurt you…"

She nodded dumbly, mouth still ajar before his words caught up with her and she dismissed them with a weak wave of her hand. "Don't be silly," she giggled suddenly, and his eyebrows arched in concern. "I'm perfectly fine—" She cut herself off to stare at him in unabashed amazement. "You just lifted your jeep," she repeated.

He sighed, and wondered if that had really been the best way to show her… She looked sort of lost right now. "I've never 'shown off' before. Feel special."

When her expression cleared and changed completely, he nearly groaned. Her eyes were suddenly bright with excitement that she carefully kept from contorting the rest of her features as she considered him haughtily. "That was pretty impressive—" He snorted—"—now do it without your shirt on," she commanded.

They grinned at each other. And when he held out a hand, she closed the distance between them, and took it without hesitating, allowing him to pull her close and wrap himself completely around her. She twisted her neck, allowing him access to the spot he always seemed to favor when holding her, and he readily pressed his lips against the corner of her neck, taking a deep breath and allowing all tension to flow from him.

Two weeks without her scent had bothered him far more than it should have. He could feel himself coming undone during her prolonged absence.

Sighing softly, she melted into him. When he held her tighter with a carefulness that warred against the brute strength she knew he must have possessed, she began murmuring half-words—more sounds than anything else—that he wasn't listening to as she soothed at his back with her hands.

"Don't ever leave me like that again," he murmured weakly before pressing an open mouth kiss to her pulse point, inhaling sharply when he felt her knees give out.

"God… Warn a girl next time," she breathed against his temple, breath stirring his bangs

"Like I'd have let you fall," he snorted, finally straightening up to stare down at her.

She was smiling at him, and he watched as the smile became wistful. "The worst part," she told him quietly, "was having to go to bed knowing you wouldn't be there with open arms."

"Your scent is still in my bed and pillows, but it's stale and old—that was the worst part. I couldn't even pretend while I was sleeping…"

"Scent?"

"Inu hanyou," he reminded her.

She nodded after a moment of consideration. "Oh. Right. Well, using that logic, do you fetch?"

"Hah. Funny," he retorted sarcastically. "And _no_. Before you start getting ideas, the answer is no—I do _not_ fetch."

"Me thinks thou protest too much."

"…I will _never_ speak to you again," he threatened to stress his point, but she only laughed at him.

"We both know that's not true, but I imagine it would be insulting, throwing a stick and telling you to bring it too me, hm?"

"Oh? You think?"

"Don't get your dander up, puppy. I'm not going to try," she promised, pulling a hand from around his waist and placing it over his heart, watching her fingers as she felt the palpitations beneath them. "What do I smell like?" she asked suddenly.

He shrugged.

"Oh, come on—I'll tell you what you smell like if you'll tell me what I smell like."

"This sounds like a game that preschoolers play."

"Oh, you've got a dirty mind."

"Ironic, coming from you. I never said the 'game' was a dirty one."

"…Shut up and tell me what I smell like."

"First of all—that doesn't make sense. Secondly—why do you want to know?"

"_Because_."

"That's a good reason."

"It is," she insisted. "Will you at least tell me if I smell good?"

He pinned her with a dry look. "What do you think?"

"I think that's what you're doing when you're breathing on my neck—I just want to know why you like it…"

At the reminder, he buried his head into her again, taking a long drag on her scent. "…If you really want to know, you smell amazing—warm and sweet… Honey. Almonds…a hint of vanilla…"

"So I smell like a breakfast cereal," she concluded.

He chuckled huskily at the disappointment in her tone. "Say want you want, but your scent is _perfect_ to me. And…sometimes…it smells even better."

"Better?" She gasped when warmth spread across her throat before he nipped at the spot he'd just run his tongue over—a known weak spot that made her twitch against him, mind clouding over as heat began to pool in her belly. His hands slipped under the light blue tank to grip her hips, jerking her up to him as his thumbs running lightly up and down her belly. "Oh…" she murmured, eyes closing as the careful nips traveled up her throat and across her jawline until she felt him grinning against her ear. He took a single, obscene sniff before whispering, hot breath making her knees weak as his silk lips rubbed her ear.

"You smell fucking _fantastic_, Jules."

Her brow furrowed, but her eyes remained closed, even as she realized that he was trying to answer one of her questions—if only she could remember what it was… "Smell?" she repeated absently, gripping his shoulders with white, rigid fingers as he took her lobe into his mouth. When she mewled, he moaned against her. But then his words hit her again, and she pushed him away to meet his eyes. "Smell…?" And then she froze, pinning him with horrified eyes. "No," she muttered to convince herself that she was being crazy. "You couldn't _possibly_ mean—" She gasped when he quirked an eyebrow at her, lips twisting into a smirk. "…_Hiro_!"

Laughing, he pulled her back into his arms as his head swam. "Fucking fantastic," he sighed again. "Drives me crazy—_God_," he choked when her scent spiked again, for some reason clearer and purer than it had ever been, and he had to fight the urge to take her there, in the middle of his yard.

"Thanks…?" she grumbled, stomach rolling pleasantly at the silk in his tone and the darkened gold hue of his eyes that scorched her. "But I _still_ feel like I just caught you reading my diary… Are there any other special powers I should know about?"

"Don't call them 'special powers.' You make me sound like a comic book character."

She forced a straight face as she peered up at him through a thick fringe of lashes. "…Do you have a spidey-sense?" She squealed when he pinched her ass. "Oh, come _on_! That was a valid question!"

'_She's right, you know,_' it pointed out, a grin in its voice. '_We call it instinct, but it's all the same, isn't it?_'

"I'm not a superhero—"

"You're like a super-human," she pointed out, swatting his hand away from her butt. "Super-Hiro—" She laughed when he snorted. "Is there really a difference?"

He hummed in the back of his throat, and held her for a moment longer before smiling down at her. "You know…you handled this a lot better than you did in my imagination."

Her hands clenched the cotton of his shirt, and she used it as leverage to pull herself up to kiss his chin. "Aww… You imagined telling me?"

"God—for so long. A lot of the time, you're afraid of me…"

"_Afraid_ of you? Please. You're harmless."

He jerked against her, startled and uncomfortable. "…I don't know about _that_, but—"

"What about the other times?"

"Hm?"

"The other times you imagined—what do I do then?"

He barked out a laugh. "Other times you demand to play with my ears."

She laughed along with him before realizing that she had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. And if the sudden tension in his muscles meant anything, he just realized this too. "What was that about the ears?" she asked—a reasonable question, she believed.

"_That_…is something else we have to talk about…" he hedged, pulling away completely and scratching the back of his head awkwardly. He met her expectant, waiting features with a slow grimace. "You see, I don't…_exactly_ look like this," he told her, gesturing to himself, and watching alarm filter into her open expression. Within the blink of an eye, she'd closed the distance between them, her arms automatically shooting up to touch his ears. Her mouth opened into an 'o,' when the ears that she knew she was touching felt like the smooth surface of his jaw line and temple. "But—but I _see_ myself touching them!" Her eyes shot to the top of his head when she thought she saw a flicker of movement there, but it turned out to be nothing.

"The mind is a powerful thing," he told her. "You see what you want to see."

She definitely looked alarmed now. "But how can you _hear_ me? You _can_ hear me, right?"

He stared blandly at her. "No, Jules… I can't hear you."

"…Jerk."

"You deserved that one." She didn't say anything—only glowered at him. "I have ears, Julia. They just aren't like yours."

"Then show me," she demanded, and he snorted.

"Yes, ma'am." His wry smirk faded into a small frown as he considered her carefully, before lowering himself to the grass. She promptly joined him, sitting Indian-style as she waited impatiently. "Before I do this," he said at last, "I have to warn you—I have claws… But I've always had them, and I'd never h—"

"Oh, for the love of _God_, Hiro—I _know_! I _know_ you'd never hurt me—I'm not afraid of you. I'm really not, I swear," she told him eagerly—half irritably, leaning forward to place a hand on his knee.

He sighed, but nodded, pulling his right knee against his chest and met her blue eyes knowingly. "A barrier," he told her. "It alters our appearance enough so that we can walk among humans. It also acts as a deterrent—you've never noticed my ears were different because you've never felt the need to touch them. It probably never even crossed your mind."

"Well…I guess," she admitted grudgingly. "So…how do you remove the barrier?"

"I remove the anchor," he told her, a small smile forming at her clueless expression. "It has to be something that you keep on your person at all times. Most people use jewelry—I've never been one for jewelry, but…" He shrugged, and leaned forward to roll up the bottom of his jeans a few times, so that she could see the thin, braided leather thong that wrapped around his ankle a few times-the one she'd toy with and rub whenever they watched TV together or just sprawled out on the sofa to talk. She held her breath as he picked at the intricate knot that held the thin hide in place. It only took him a second before he began unwinding the string.

He paused on the last loop. "Are you sure about this? You'll always see me as a hanyou after this…"

Biting her lip, she nodded. "I mean…I'm not going to lie, it's going to be a bit weird if you have the head of a _dog_, but…"

He gave her a curt, slanted look that made her grin, wide and unrepentant, and then he pulled the leather loose, and she watched it fall to the grass at his feet.

His toenails were the first things she noticed. Her brows rose as she stared at the slightly pointed nails, vaguely reminiscent of claws. Okay…so far, so good—_that_ she could handle, and he didn't appear to be covered in fur—'_If he knew I just thought that, he'd want to smack me…_'

Her eyes slowly began to travel up his body and rested on the rigid hand resting on his now-crossed knee—it looked as though he were straining to keep it unclenched beneath her scrutiny. Remaining silent, she reached out to take the hand, cradling it in her own as she pulled it up to inspect it.

_Wow_.

They were definitely claws—or tiny daggers attached to his fingers.

'_This is _real_... Fairytales are _real_.._.'

She felt his eyes on her as she admired his claws, her lips parted in silent awe.

Amazing that he kept them under such a tight control—she'd never so much as felt them. …Unless _they_ were the reason he was one hell of a backscratcher. Running a thumb lightly across the edge of the long talon jutting from his index finger, she hid a smile when he reflexively moved with her—barely at all, but enough to keep her from pressing too hard into the sharp edge. It was sweet enough to make her blush.

_And he'd been worried that she'd be afraid of him?_

Though she maintained her hold on his limp hand, her eyes began moving up his body again, noticing nothing unusual until she reached his face. The first things she checked were his eyes, naturally, and she couldn't repress the deep sigh of relief when she found them unchanged, golden, burning.

He lifted his chin proudly under her inspection. His face was faintly different, but she couldn't put her finger on what, exactly, had changed. He looked…

She'd never considered him to be 'boyishly handsome'—he was far too lean and sharp for that, but now she was beginning to have second thoughts upon seeing this new Hiroshi, who made the old one seem a bit childish—a feat she'd thought impossible. Something about him bordered on feral—wild and dangerous. He was magnificent, and a chill ran down her spine when she realized what had changed: his strength was written across his face now.

He was a beautiful creature.

For a moment she forgot how to breathe. And when she remembered, her stomach rolled pleasantly, an ache forming in the pit of her stomach when faced with his subdued ferocity. She hadn't stopped staring at him, so when a disbelieving grin broke across his face, she didn't miss it.

"_Seriously_, Julia?" he asked dryly, though his eyes never stopped laughing at her.

She blushed again, lips pursing into an irritated pout. "That damn nose is going to get on my nerves, isn't it?"

"Probably," he agreed amiably, kissing her finger when she ran it over his lips. She gently pushed through them, twisting the finger against his teeth to hook it under his top lip and pulling up just enough to bare a fang to her. Her expression was completely serious when she released him, watching as he flexed his jaw.

"Open, please?" she asked, and he obeyed without questions or complaints, and she got a better look at the pointed canines that were barely half an inch longer than his other teeth. She settled back on her haunches, frowning in concentration as she lost herself in thought.

Distinctly uncomfortable again, Hiroshi remained still and quiet, and when she was suddenly in his face, he blinked and met determined blue with puzzled topaz. A hand caressed his cheek, and she offered him a reassuring smile. "I want to try something."

And when her lips pressed to his in the first kiss they'd shared with this newfound freedom, his already weakened grasp on himself slipped even more. He knew better than anyone that he was a completely different person from the Hiroshi of two years ago. He'd allowed her to worm her way under his skin and ruffle his composure. And while he wasn't so sure he liked his dependence on her, and how weak he'd become, she was well-worth his pride.

She gave him a peace of mind that he hadn't felt since he could remember. Without even realizing what she was doing—or what she was capable of, she'd succeeded in taming the only thing he was afraid of.

Even his voice had fallen completely under her spell…

A ragged growl ripped free as he knotted his fingers in her hair, his other arm snaking around the small of her back, fingers grasping tightly at her hip. She was suddenly molded against him as he kissed her with a wildness that she'd never seen of him.

She could feel the fangs pressing against her, the slight prick of them as he started to pull away, catching and kissing her swollen bottom lip.

"…Okay," she finally panted, large eyes staring at an imaginary spot on his shirt. "I think I like this a lot."

His lips dusted against her nose, cheek, pausing on her jawline when her eyelids fluttered, her grip on him tightening. "You're forgetting something," he reminded her, and a twitch of movement drew her attention above his face.

And she gasped, a hand already reaching up and toward the furry appendages-darker now than his hair, a dusty black. She thought about asking his permission to touch them before deciding against it.

It was unnecessary. If she could force a finger into his mouth to examine his teeth, then she could fondle his canine ears.

He sat still, hands still resting lightly on her hips as she straddled his lap, as she gingerly touched the tip of an ear, laughing happily and snatching her hand away when the are flicked against her involuntarily. "Does it hurt?"

"No one ever touches them," he told her. "They're sensitive to touch and...personal."

"They look like cat ears," she teased, watching him through her lashes. "Are you _sure_ you're a dog?"

"That depends. Are _you_ sure you want me to cook for you ever again?"

"_Ooh_... Someone's certainly _bitchy_ enough to be a cat..."

His scowl was meant to discourage her teasing, but she only grinned widely at him.

"Yes. Well. A bitch is a dog."

"Fitting."

He frowned. "A _female_ dog."

"Even more so."

"You're hilarious, Jules."

Still straddling his lap, knees folded on either side of him, her arms draped themselves around his neck, drawing her closer. She watched his scowl disappear into something deliciously dark, and her stomach twisted lower again before she turned her gaze up to his ears. She reveled in the occasional twitch and flick, and had the daring impulse to blow on his ear. Or to turn a hairdryer against him to watch him go crazy.

His eyes narrowed suspiciously when she snorted, before sobering instantly, lips still twitching.

'_Not a safe thought,_' she reminded herself cheerfully. '_Probably best not act on that last impulse._'

"I want to try something," she repeated quietly, waiting long enough to gauge whether or not he was uncomfortable before reaching up to stroke an ear up and down, eyes flicking between his face and the ears. It wasn't until her fingers found the base of the appendages that he seemed to melt into her touch. And she rubbed, soothing more stress out of him as blood left his head and seemed to drain directly into his groin.

"_Fuck_," he whispered, voice hoarse and eyes shut as he leaned into her touch, hips snapping up to grind himself against her.

Gasping, her hand fell from his ear to his shoulder, gripping him to steady herself as he took a moment to collect his willpower, breathing harsh.

"So," she said at last with a breathy laugh, "I definitely learned something valuable from this experiment." His face was still pale, and when he opened his eyes, his face was darkened with open lust that made her nervous.

"You're terrible for my restraint," he admitted at last, and mischief brightened her gaze as she tried to reach his ear again, only to be intercepted, a single large hand wrapped around her wrist. He could feel the voice's primitive brutality rubbing off on him as it became more agitated, more of a force, and he _wanted_.

He leaned in closer than necessary to rub his lips against her ear. "That's not a good idea," he murmured, free hand inching up her thigh and bunching her skirt. She felt him smirk against her. "If we're not careful, I may do something we'll both regret.

"I never worry about how I'll feel later," she assured him, arm boneless in his grasp and all too aware of the hand that continued to creep up her thigh-higher and higher, but _painfully_ slow. "Just focus on the now." She was half desperate, and reached out with her other hand to grasp the back of his neck as she twisted her face to make contact with flesh-cheek, jaw, lips, it didn't matter. And she was grateful when he released her hand so that she could slip it under his shirt again, touch burning flesh and muscles again as his tongue found its way into her mouth, brushing against her own.

When he came up for air, he chuckled at her words. "Not the most sage advice I've ever been given, but it's certainly the most welcome." And then his hand was soothing her hip underneath the fabric of her skirt before he realized something crucial and devastating.

He pulled back enough to look at her, stunned. "Since when do you not wear underwear?" he demanded, searching her hip once more for missing fabric. No wonder her scent was so vivid and immediate.

_Christ_, she was bad for him, unraveled him-constantly.

Her face exploded with pink. "I need to do my laundry," she muttered and managed a dry scowl to defend herself- "You must be the first man in the history of ever to complain about a lack of panties..."

He was floored at her conclusion. "You misunderstand me. I am _not_ complaining," he told her, voice gruff as he struggled to calm himself, but only managed to position her directly on top of the part of him that most desperately needed a timeout. Or to lose the now-painfully tight jeans that separated them from contact. "Still think you're not devastating?" He watched her carefully, mesmerized as he gauged her reaction. The woman was half-possessed by want and sex and feeling and...

"I always knew I was," she murmured, tried to joke brokenly, before- "Jesus, Hiro, just _touch_ me..."

And that was all he needed.

How long had it been since he'd felt her at all? How long since her soft body pressed warm against his?

With a guttural growl, his hand was removed from her skirt, now bunched around the juncture of her thighs. He quickly tugged pointedly at her top, waiting until her arms were raised before ripping it off and tossing it aside as his hands flowed against silk skin. He watched her face as he stroked a ribcage, palmed a breast over the thin fabric of her bra, intrigued by all of it. Against her light skin, his well-tanned hand looked golden as it greedily soaked up and created warmth with simple light, caresses.

'_Too long,_' he thought, almost dazed as he bent over her to trail hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, her shoulder, up her neck, across her jawline. And when she, sighing, sagged against him, he smiled, nose softly dusting her cheek when he pulled away. He wanted to memorize this part of her all over again, and more-to press at the boundaries he'd always so believed in.

He wanted to be daring.

She gasped, eyes wide as she clung to him, rigid and sweet. Gold watched her intensely as she held her breath, his hand suddenly at the top her her thigh, buzzing electric and drifting, drifting...

And _god_, she _wanted_... She burned beneath his touch, and she wanted nothing more than to be consumed by his flames, to immolate in his arms. It would be worth it, she decided.

He waited for her to object, and when she didn't, he began to hunger, to _ache_. She was just too close, and her sweet, flowering smell too much. And then his palm was between them, over her, his fingers achingly tender, tugging at her soul with each stroke, until she wasn't sure she'd ever recover from her twisting stomach. The world exploded in feeling-in pleasure so great, so intimate, it was nearly painful. She thought she would cry as she hung pitifully around his neck, but then he pressed a long finger against her, was inside her, followed by another, and she could do nothing but try to ride his hand as his breath was suddenly hot and harsh against her ear.

"_God, I-_" she murmured helplessly as she felt a pressure building when beautiful frenzy, and he withdrew his fingers.

"Inside," he growled against her skin. She nodded before catching his face to pull him into another desperate kiss, smiling when his chest rumbled against hers, smiling when he lifted them up, her legs wrapping around his waist, smiling when she heard the click of Zooey's claws against the wooden floors as he followed them down the hall, toward the bedroom.

Her laughter was breathy as he flopped both of them on the mattress, swatting at the air behind him to shoo the dog away and instantly burying his face in her neck. The tip of his tongue pressed hot and heavy against her throat, and she shuddered involuntarily beneath him, breath catching again.

He took his time memorizing her body with more dedication than he ever had, mouth moving lazily over her salty, sweet skin as it trembled beneath him. Her hands occupied themselves against his back, tracing the muscles that stood out as he held his weight off of her. And when she tugged urgently at the fabric of his shirt, he pulled away from her to remove it. He moved on to her bra afterwards, carefully removing it and tossing it to the floor before flicking his rough tongue against a finally bared tip. Her cry making its way directly to his groin and tugging at his soul until he was fighting the small, thin zipper at the side of her skirt and carefully peeling it back.

She lifted her hips to help him, and when she was finally naked beneath him, she suddenly felt nervous, foolish. Of course his intense gaze caught her, and the corner of his mouth twisted up into a small smile, hand preventing her from covering herself. "You're beautiful, Jules. So beautiful..." Eyes followed her form, as his fingers followed their path, leaving devastation in their wake, until they fell on a wide blotch of mottled flesh on her pelvis.

His face softened.

His fingertips traced the bruise, and she shivered at the sensation of his claws dragging over sensitive flesh. "Mimi?" he asked. He was frowning, but he wasn't angry, she noted, so she told him.

"Our last training session. It's old." And then because he was still staring at it, still soothing it, she added, "It doesn't hurt at all. It hasn't for a while."

Without a word, he sank against her, pressing careful open-mouthed kisses to the old bruise, and she felt tears stinging her nose at his tenderness. God, she had missed him... God, she _loved_ him, wanted to _tell_ him, felt it catch in her dry mouth as he unraveled her...

He heard her murmur low in her throat, and it took him a while to comprehend that she was telling him he was wearing too much clothes.

He caught her hands with one of his own as they were suddenly working the button of his jeans, and she met his bright ochre eyes.

"We can't," he reminded her, tone apologetic.

"We won't," she promised, tugging once more at the hemline of his loose jeans, and he understood.

'_This is going to be difficult,_' he thought as he looked down at her, beneath him. Black curls were fanned about her shoulders, and her pale skin was flushed, glowing pink with excitement. He could hear her heartbeat, starting to slow now, blood still rushing through her veins.

'_You're fucking telling _**_me_**_?_ ' it asked, tone strangely low and strangled.

'_**Really** difficult,_' he corrected, nodding once and removing his hand from hers. With an urgent, throaty noise, she resumed working at his button as he leaned over her. And when she succeeded in opening the fly, she pushed the canvas material off his hips, down his thighs, waiting while he removed them completely, stripping down to his boxers.

He looked uncertain when he turned back to her, something fiercely tender tempered by a darker desire, and she watched that beautiful face repeatedly damn every impulse the exploded behind his eyes, that twitched beneath his skin as he stared at her naked form.

"Come here," she whispered, scared to shatter the beautiful quiet between them. She smiled sweetly at him when he obeyed without question, carefully lowering himself over her, ducking to capture her swollen lips once again. And then-

- His tongue against her stomach, against a long-fading bruise on her pelvis, his mouth against her thigh, and then against _her_, tasting _her_...

- Her fingers soothing trails of fire at the small of his back, at the band of his boxers, at the base of his ears, buried desperately in his hair as she arched against him, against his clever tongue until she thought she would sob and break and burst and...

- His erection so hot, so hard against her thigh, and the thick, needy groan that slipped past his lips when she finally, finally touched him, stroked him, whispered against him as she pulled him to tatters...

- Her whispers which never ended, even as she drifted to sleep, soft and salty and hot in his arms. And as he fell asleep, lips branding her shoulder, he knew that she was in love with him, and she knew he needed her.

* * *

Well. Ahem. lol, hope you enjoyed that. And thanks for all the reviews-they really get my creative juices flowing. Next update will probably be in a week, if not sooner, and takes place a few hours after this last scene. I've enjoyed writing it so far. Hope all is going well, you lovely people!

* * *

**_Quotes of Randomness:_**

_"All at once we were madly, clumsily, shamelessly, agonizingly in love with each other; hopelessly, I should add, because that frenzy of mutual possession might have been assuaged only by our actually imbibing and assimilating every particle of each other's soul and flesh; but there we were, unable even to mate as slum children would have so easily found an opportunity to do so. " -Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov_

_Eirik: I was trying to rob him. And he took my gun from me. And the gun was full of blanks. And he shot a blank into my eye. And now I cannot see from this eye ever again, the doctors say._

_Harry: Well, to be honest, it sounds like it's all your fault._

_Eirik: ...What?_

_Harry: I mean basically if you're robbing a man, and you're only carrying blanks, and you allow your gun to be taken off you, and you allow yourself to be shot in the eye with a blank-which I assume that the person has to get quite close to you-then, yeah really it's all your fault for being such a poof, so why don't you stop wingeing and cheer the fuck up. _

_-Eirik and the marvelous Harry Waters from "In Bruges."_


	16. Wolf in the Fold

_Chapter 16: Wolf in the Fold_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha._

* * *

_Wow at the wonderful, flattering reviews... You guys make me want to keep working on this story, and **I love you all**! _

_A very special thanks as always to Kate for proof-reading and being amazingly fast, so I could get this chapter out as soon as possible. And for the most part, I'm actually _really_ happy with how this chapter turned out. It's probably my favorite so far, and it's being posted on my birthday! I can't believe I started these stories so many years ago now-in **high school**, even... Anyway, I hope you all will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)_

**_More violence ahead. Just, you know...a warning._**

* * *

_We know who our enemies are... Goldaline, my dear, we will fold and freeze together far away from here. There is sun and spring and green forever. But now we move to feel for ourselves inside some stranger's stomach. Place your body here-let your skin begin to blend itself with mine._

_- "Oh Comely" by Neutral Milk Hotel_

* * *

It was dark when he woke up in a cold sweat, heart hammering in his chest as his eyes shot open. His entire body was tensed and coiled like a spring, and his gaze darted to the woman curled up against his side before he began quickly and carefully untangling himself from her.

She didn't wake up until he had pushed himself off the bed and was dragging his jeans over his boxers. "Hiro?"

He offered her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes as he bent over and kissed her forehead, brushing a few curls back. "Go back to sleep, Jules. I'll be right back."

"Mm," she yawned, grabbing his abandoned pillow and pulling it against her to wrap her arms around it as she closed her eyes again. She fell asleep immediately, bared ribs rising and falling softly, glowing in the moonlight.

And he grabbed Gintsume from its mantle, fingers wrapping around the base of its sheath and thumb slowly pushing the sword up from its scabbard as he watched the bedroom doorway.

Two of them—unfamiliar youkai—were standing in front of his house. When he couldn't hear them moving, his hackles rose, and his head was filled with growling, though he remained absolutely silent.

'_Calm down. They haven't done anything yet._'

'_If they weren't hostile, don't you think they'd have knocked on the fucking door by now instead of stalking around our damn house?_'

'_I know that—_shit_!_' He slipped out of the bedroom as he felt the youki begin to separate, and he heard one of them take off, the other remained rooted in his front yard. He'd already discarded his sword's ebony sheath, tossing it onto the couch as he briskly strode for his front door.

'_Trap?_'

'_Either way, I'll handle it._'

'_Finally. Was wondering when you were going to grow some damn balls._'

"No, Zooey-stay," he commanded when the dog was suddenly at his side and curious.

He opened the door, not even bothering to keep the sword in his hand hidden as he met the man's eyes and closed the door quietly behind him. Shifting to face him fully from his porch, Hiroshi studied him carefully—a young, rough-looking wolf with shaggy black hair and a nasty looking machete sheathed in leather against his hip. There was something wrong with him, he realized, staring into the eager, wild face as the youkai twitched involuntarily every few moments. He let his eyes wander from the wolf to the path that the other—some kind of raptor—had taken as she retreated into the woods behind his house. "Where'd the other one go?" he asked, gold sliding back to the wide, dark blue.

The youkai grinned, lips curling up over sharp teeth, and he twitched again. "Told her I d-didn't need her help."

Hiroshi raised his eyebrows at the abrasive confidence the other exuded. "That might have been a mistake…"

"You're just a weak hanyou—a human-lover," he sneered, wrinkling his nose at the scent that lingered only feet from him—the spot where Hiroshi and Julia had sat in the grass only hours ago. "I c-can't lose to _you_."

And the hanyou frowned pointedly at him, sighing wearily. "Well, that's base thinking," he muttered. "Surely you don't believe that…"

The wolf gripped the handle of his large knife, and Hiro shot him a pitying look.

"You honestly think you're going to kill me with a _machete_?" He shook his head, frowning at the wolf for a second longer before sighing again. "Okay, then." His left hand joined his right, clenching the hilt of his sword as he held it low at his side and readied himself to launch from the porch.

"You m-mean you're not goin' to tell me this is my last chance to r-run before you kill me?" Confused amusement flickered over the youkai's twitching face, and Hiroshi realized that he'd been brushed up on the hanyou's character but not so much his skill.

"I'm not going to kill you now," he promised. "But I'm afraid you won't be leaving, either."

The high-pitched, chilling laughter that pierced the night only confirmed his suspicion that the wolf was mad.

"You'll be disabled," he pressed on quietly, "and then you'll be taken in for questioning. But you will almost certainly be executed after I'm finished with you," he admitted truthfully, almost apologetically.

The wolf couldn't stop the spasms that frequently interrupted his concentration, but it didn't seem to bother him. "You're going to be b-boring, aren't you? I d-don't like to be bored. Honestly, I expected more f-from the infamous Inter-rogator."

Hiroshi's eyes narrowed at the name. "The _Interrogator_?" With a soft snort and a wry smile, he shook his head. "That's what they're calling me, is it?"

"I g-guess you wouldn't know nothing 'bout th-that, huh?" he sneered. "Pitiful."

"And what do they say about this _Interrogator_?" he asked quickly, acutely aware that his chances of reaching the raptor narrowed significantly with each passing second. The wolf seemed to realize it too and grinned, taking his time.

"Y-you're cold-blooded. Another panther p-posing as a house-cat," he leered. "That you're j-just b-biding your time. I don't know, though... You l-look like a big pussy to me... They say y-you love your answers, and th-that you love them even m-more when you sh-ed blood for them."

The words seared across his brain, but his face remained unmoved. "I see... I don't suppose you'd want to give me these answers I want without me having to shed blood for them? No?" he asked when the man threw his head back and laughed. "Well," he sighed and shrugged into a readied stance, "no help for it, then."

"Right," the wolf chuckled, "no h-help for it."

And when he saw the man's knees bend to spring, he quickly rammed the tip of Gintsume into the soft wood of the bottom step, bracing himself as the youkai was suddenly in the air and descending.

'_What are the chances of this fight ending without my house being damaged and Julia waking up?_' he asked himself dryly as he darted forward to intercept his foe. His claws renting the wolf's ribs, tearing his shirt and drawing first blood as he tempted him to the edge of the clearing and away from the porch.

He skid to a halt, lurching automatically under an arm that shot out for him and returned the attempted blow-his claws making shallow contact again. Light, jabbing punctures this time, assuring that the wolf would continue to lose valuable blood and valuable energy. He could hear Zooey's frantic barking behind the closed door, and the voice snickered before responding to his previous question: '_Not fucking likely._'

Dropping to his hands, a foot swept forward, surprising the wolf and temporarily upsetting his balance as the inu hanyou rushed forward to take advantage. But the wolf seemed to take none of the relatively small injuries the hanyou managed to deal him seriously, and braced himself for his opponent. They collided with a resounding smack, the crazy youkai back-tracking a few steps toward his home to regain his footing.

"You're like a fucking cat with those claws!" he complained loudly, irritated as he examined the gashes and holes that shredded cloth and skin alike.

"I'm going to have to ask you to stay away from my house. And try to be quiet, alright?"

"_Quiet_? I know you got a girl in there-a f-fucking human," he sneered before raising his tone to a bellow that echoed in the clear night sky, "Come on out and j-join us, you filthy bitch! You c-can die with your mate!"

The word 'mate' settled in Hiroshi's blood with an electric jolt, though his face gave nothing away. The youkai's nose wasn't strong enough to tell that they weren't mated, and his mistake could be deadly for the woman if Hiroshi didn't handle the situation carefully and quickly.

"Right then," he replied, irritated. "We'll do this now."

A cruel grin and a change in the air made Hiroshi's hackles raise as his eyes widened, darkened and wind howled in the clearing. "Damn _right_ we will!"

'_He's transforming...!_'

'_Well, fucking stop him, Hiro, Jesus-you waiting for an invitation?_' it complained.

He had never fought a youkai it its original form before. Even the ones that hated humans generally were more comfortable in the humanoid form they used daily. Neither Sesshoumaru nor Shippou had even attempted in at least two hundred years, the former being entirely too humongous now to not draw attention, and the latter with no use at all for it.

It was incredibly quick-much faster than he ever dreamed that such an enormous change could take place. Within a single second, bones had shifted, enlarged, shaggy black hair had spurted over his entire body, and he stood on all fours, as tall as Hiroshi. Black lips curled back into a dangerous grin-a fierce snarl exposing fangs that jutted out at an angle to better tear and rip.

At least he was fairly young. Younger than Inuyasha, older than Hiroshi. Fairly young meant fairly small, he reminded himself as he examined the huge wolf warily, aching to put himself safely between it and his house without drawing attention to his actions.

He could kill it. He _knew_ he could kill-so easily, too.

However, he needed it inconveniently alive. And taking down something this big and this unbalanced and determined-making it surrender out of sheer pain, that was going to be a challenge. It was the reason he'd abandoned Gintsume, which would be too much of a temptation to use fatally if in his hands.

With a sigh, Hiroshi popped his neck and loosened into a stance, claws at the ready. "Impressive. But let's just get this over with."

* * *

There was barking-incessant, desperate barking that chased her fuzzily to the edge of her dreams.

With a groan, Julia swatted at the air in front of her, aiming for a warm body. "Hiro," she whined in a jaw-popping yawn as she stretched and rolled over, "get the dog." And when ten seconds had passed, and the only response she'd received was more frantic barking, she opened her eyes, annoyed and annoyingly awake.

But then Zooey's distant whining and ferocity sank in and she sat up, dizzy with vertigo and stomach already in anxious knots as she looked for her boyfriend, and realized he wasn't beside her. The spot where he'd laid was rapidly cooling.

'_Something's wrong._'

The idea settled like lead in her stomach, and she knew it was true the moment she thought it. Covers tossed aside, she didn't even bother blushing when she remembered she had no panties to pull on, too worried now to care. She remedied this by slipping back into her skirt and snatching up the carefully discarded button-up that Hiroshi had worn to work earlier that day. Shrugging it on, she worked furiously at the buttons until-half-way through:

"_Come on out and j-join us, you filthy bitch! You c-can die with your mate!_"

The unfamiliar voice was clear and laughing and rang loud and bitter through her head and blood and heart, which was currently hammering in her throat.

'_Maybe it's a joke. Maybe it's one of Hiro's friends playing a prank. They're probably both out there waiting to see how I'll react-waiting to laugh_," she reasoned with a beautiful fool's hope that even she couldn't convince herself with as her fingers forgot the buttons of the shirt, and her feet carried her swiftly to the kitchen without her having to ask them to.

'_What am I doing?_' she asked herself as her fingers fumbled knowingly through a drawer until she found them wrapped tightly around Hiroshi's butcher knife. '_Oh_.'

Her fingers knew what they were doing. Which was a relief, she thought as she ran to the living room, because the rest of her sure as hell didn't.

Zooey was still scrambling frantically at the door, trying to tear it down as he whined, and with her free hand, she grabbed his collar to tug him back until she'd flung the door open, and together they ran onto the porch.

After that, everything ceased to make sense.

Julia froze, knife-hand boneless at her side, when she saw her boyfriend crouching defensively in front of a rabid-looking wolf the size of a working horse. "…Oh," she whispered, taking a step back so that her heels were pressed against the metal threshold. As though she were a beacon, both heads simultaneously swiveled to meet her, and somehow—even though they were over twenty yards apart—she watched _both_ of their expressions change. Hiroshi's neutral confidence to a mixture of fear and anger; the giant wolf's into an obvious hunger as his eyes widened with an understanding that eluded her.

But Hiroshi knew—the youkai thought they were mated, that she was his weak point. And really—how wrong was he? She was the domino that, fallen, would bring more than one of Sesshoumaru's hounds to their knees, starting with him.

They took action at the same time, reacting much quicker than she ever could have imagined possible in her stunned state. "Inside! _Now_!" Hiroshi was yelling, even as he made a mad dash for the wolf, who was already twisting in mid-air, his front paws hitting the ground in such a way that the path to her was straight.

A wave of terror swept through her at the unholy hunger in the wolf's twisted, eager face, and she tried to make her body obey Hiroshi's command—if only she could tear her eyes from that…_thing_ bounding toward her. That _thing_ from nightmares of hellfire and brimstone... From horrible, horrible fairytales meant to frighten children into behaving.

There was a 'yip' as Hiroshi managed to tackle the wolf, bare shoulder shoving hard and unforgiving into ribs hidden by thick fur. And together they hit the ground hard, rolling, feral fangs snapping and iron bones popping, only forty feet from the seemingly petrified woman.

Hiroshi, for one, was growing increasingly irritated as he came to the conclusion that she was going to make no effort to place distance between herself and the youkai. '_What the hell is she _doing_?_'

Distracting him, no doubt, he thought, claws sinking deep into the wolf's flank, plucking at muscles that didn't seem to faze the crazed youkai in the least. Not for the first time, Hiroshi was annoyed that he needed the wolf alive. It was so much easier to kill than to debilitate a bloodthirsty youkai…

It was desperate-he could tell as he grappled with it, claws shedding more and more blood as the youkai attempted to wrestle away from him. As the youkai continued to attempt to drag them closer to Julia. Hiroshi could read the manic thought in those determined eyes: _ Kill the human, and you kill the hanyou._

Hiroshi's arm locked around the trunk-like neck, and his balled knuckles swiftly aimed for the nearest front leg, effectively bludgeoning it and breaking through bone with a sickening, thick snap. There was a whimper as the wolf buckled under the pain, but continued to struggle.

"Julia, fucking _go_!" he shouted again over the ferocious snarls, and she swayed a bit, made to move as he'd ordered, but not as quickly as he would have liked.

His mental berating was cut short with a grunt of pain when the wolf had freed himself enough to twist against him, sinking its massive jaws into his shoulder—tore flesh, tore muscle, cracked bone. The hanyou's claws instinctively ran down the big head latched onto and into him, currently pulverizing the ball of his shoulder, the blade of his back. With a furious downward slash, Hiroshi claimed an eye and carved away a jowl, permanently exposing the bloody fangs that held him. Black fur slicked wet with blood, and there was a throaty snarl that he felt in his _bones_ as the youkai held him. He felt the wolf clamor to his paws with a shifting of weight, and before Hiroshi could find a non-vital body part to injure grievously enough to make the youkai release him, he was picked up, smacked down against the hard earth and tossed aside in a fluid, crucially painful moment. He landed hard several yards away, all-too-aware of Julia's anguished scream.

Instantly drawn by Julia's cry, the wolf turned on its heel and was already bounding toward her when Hiroshi sprang to his feet again, disbelief etched clearly across his features. He was _never_ this careless—not when it mattered…

'_Not going to make it_' ran traitorously through his mind and was immediately squashed as a poisonous and furious presence made itself known in his blood.

'_The hell—_' it snarled, and he was overwhelmed, '_not by a fucking crazy wolf, not today._'

–Maybe two seconds had passed since it had gotten up and started charging toward Julia, when it leaped into the air, twisting and shifting, and somehow—she didn't quite catch it, it happened so quickly—he was a man by the time he struck ground only to continue as though he'd never been interrupted. His missing cheek bared half of his teeth to the night air as blood poured down his face, bared chest, hips and ribs, and the broken bone in his arm was now tearing through skin from the weight he'd put on it as he'd run. He was torn to pieces and still going strong.

If her brain was capable of processing anything at this moment, it would have wondered, amazed, '_How is he still _**_moving_**_? How is he not mad with pain?_'

Actually, if her brain was capable of processing anything at this moment, she would have told her feet to carry her the hell away from here-to run. They did a good job mindlessly carrying her out here, so it was only fair that they deliver her back to the house.

And she could almost _feel_ Hiroshi's fury flare, even as the strange man neared the porch. She couldn't move, and he was impossibly fast, Zooey's snarling the most vicious she'd ever heard from the dog as he held his ground at her side—

Three seconds had passed.

—But Hiroshi must have been faster because he was suddenly at the bottom of the steps to the porch, blocking the monster's path to her.

This was extremely fortunate for her. But it was extremely unfortunate for the creepy-wolf-man who had still been running towards her when Hiroshi appeared just in time, fluidly wrenching his sword out of the wooden bottom step. Gintsume's razor edge, a gleaming silver blur in the moonlight, reflexively caught and intercepted the bloodied youkai above his hips as he tried to lurch past the hanyou.

She could finally see that the eyes, now singular, she had previously thought were black, were actually a dark, deep blue as the one left widened, and blood sprayed. It was an image that would haunt her dreams for years to come.

And even as the sword was severing the wolf in two, Hiroshi realized his mistake. The torso hadn't even struck the steps before he exploded into foul curses that she rarely ever heard him use until recently—and _never_ in this tone and at this rate.

'**_What_**_ the _**_fuck_**_ was _**_that_**_?_'

'_What? You were takin' too long—did you _want_ him to kill her right in front of you?_'

'_I had it under control,_' he thought evenly, trying to suppress his very, very great anger.

'_Yeah. I could see that. Right about the time he was ten feet away from her and _youweren't_. Fuckin' asshole—you should be on your knees, thanking me for my help._'

'_…I needed him _alive_. That was the entire point of not killing him sooner._'

'_More than you need _her_ alive, you mean?_'

'_F—_no_,_' he bit out. '_But couldn't you have aimed a little _lower_, and just taken his legs or something? Was it completely necessary to cut him in half? Which, by the way, thank you for the mess I'm going to have to clean up. Of _course_ this bastard would be one of the ones that _don't_ turn to dust,_' he thought caustically, still seething.

'_Good. Make an example out of him. If you hang parts of him throughout the woods, I guaran-fucking-tee you that they won't bother us at our house anymore._'

'_Wh—I am _**_not_**_ doing that,_' he snarled.

'_Want _me_ to?_'

'_No. No, I don't. Don't _ever_ do that again—do you understand me? I don't care if it is only my hands or legs—if you _ever_ do something without my permission again…_'

'_Alright, alright,_' it consented, though it almost sounded as though it were trying not to laugh—Hiroshi bristled again, heart still hammering in his chest. '_Just cool it, brat. Not like I plan on making a habit of saving your ass. Or _hers_ for that matter._' The hanyou felt a sudden chill sweep through him, but his rigid body couldn't possibly be tenser than it already was at that moment. '_Fuck it up, though, and I'll make your life a living hell. You think you hate me _now_? Let something happen to that girl, and I'll show you how wrong you are. …I mean that, Hiroshi._'

It had never called him 'Hiroshi' before. Not in a manner that wasn't deliberately mocking.

The dull ache in his mangled shoulder was slowly sharpening as the adrenaline lost its edge, and he blinked the world back into focus. He looked down at the huge splotches of blood on his jeans before finding the still, lower half of the wolf, which had fallen in a different direction than the top half had.

Oh _God_… His blood froze, and his stomach turned when the knowledge that Julia was behind him aligned with the newfound realization that she had _seen_. He turned around slowly, ears disappearing against rumpled hair, dreading this particular confrontation.

With a hand clamped over her mouth, she was holding the knife in front of her, limply protecting her from the world. She was staring in horror at the wolf's outstretched hand, which had made it past the top step once he had fallen, and was now three feet directly in front of her. Zooey took a cautious step forward to sniff at it from a safe distance.

"Julia?" He frowned when she acted like she hadn't heard him. "_Julia_," he barked out a bit louder, frown deepening when she jumped, eyes snapping up to his though the hand never left her mouth. "Are you all right?" He _actually_ felt like _cowering_ when her trembling hand was finally lowered so that she could point to the dead body beside him.

"I can see his spine," she weakly informed him, and he didn't have to look down to know that she was looking out over the fallen legs that were splayed—feet facing her—in the grass.

He exhaled, and made to take a step towards her—climb the first of the wooden steps.

"_Don't_!" The sudden jagged pain that coursed through him when she cringed surprised him, and he was winded. But then she pointed at the bottom step. "You're about to step in his…intestines…"

And he was. Something yellow and sick-looking had become a bit unraveled from the torso's insides—a bit of which were spilled at his bare feet. He met her eyes and nodded. "Julia, I've got to go now—"

"—You're _hurt_!" she interrupted, even more distressed as her eyes fell on the torn and misshapen shoulder. "Oh, _God_, Hiro… It looks _awful_!"

Many things ran through her mind, which only a moment before was frozen and silent with shock- _He's in pain, he's going to bleed to death, he needs medical attention, there's a fucking monster-man eviscerated at my feet, he's never going to be able to use that arm again, why couldn't I go inside like he asked?_

Hiroshi cleared his throat, searching her face as her eyes darted frantically back and forth and she replayed her horrors in her head. "I'll be all right, Jules. Listen carefully, okay? Go inside, lock the doors, and call my father. Tell him to come and stay with you until I get back, alright? Don't open the door for _anyone_ unless it's someone from my family. Did you get that?"

She was startled back into attention and met his eyes guiltily. "What? Oh…yes." And then, as he waited for her to go back inside—"Do you really think a lock would have saved me from that…_thing_?" she asked, voice amazingly steady, though her body was still trembling like a leaf.

"That 'thing' was a youkai. And no, I don't. I expect my father to, though. I've really got to go now, Julia. I'll be back in a little while—Get inside and _stay_ there."

She nodded once, and he waited until he heard the lock click behind her before he tore off through the woods, following the bird youkai's aging scent.

He'd been running at breakneck speed for over two minutes before he suddenly noticed that it smelled as though Julia had just run through this path as well.

* * *

Kagome had folded herself into her mate's suede armchair and was watching the news when the trill of the phone sounded from the kitchen. She tore her attention away from last Sunday's mangled body, and unfolded herself from the chair, padding into the kitchen and sweeping the cordless off of its receiver only after seeing her oldest boy's number flash across the screen.

"Hey, Sweetie."

"_Um…Hi, Kagome…_"

Kagome froze at the unexpected—and distinctly feminine—voice. "…_Julia_?"

"_I'm sorry that I'm calling so late—_"

"Don't be silly, Julia. It's so nice to hear from you again—Even Inuyasha has admitted to missing you. …Well…not in so many words, but he's not exactly the kind of guy to just…" Kagome was suddenly aware of the heavy silence on the other end of the line—the lack of laughter or tiny expressive noises that the young woman seemed to be a fan of. "Julia?"

"_…Is Inuyasha there?_"

And that was officially the first time that Kagome had ever heard Julia call for her mate. "No, Sweetie, he's at his brother's right now. He should be back any minute now though. …Is everything all right?" Her eyebrows raised in alarm when she heard a choked sob on the other end of the line. …Though it may have been laughter… "Julia!"

"_Define '_**_all right_**_'…_"

"Is everyone okay?" Kagome demanded calmly, easily slipping into an old role that would never fade from her veins, no matter how many years passed. She opened the door to the coat closet right beside the front door. Her old bow was in here somewhere…

'_Gotcha!_' She reached for the old hickory bow propped against the corner. Intuition and never-forgotten routine made the weapon necessary.

"_Well… There's part of a dead wolf-man lying on the porch steps…and another part is in the yard; I'm pretty sure I'm suffering from shock right now—but I think it's supposed to be fairly harmless. Hiroshi told me to get inside and call his father right before he ran off into the really, really dark forest covered in blood. He hurt his shoulder."_ She was quiet for a second before continuing mildly, "_I also just stubbed my toe and didn't feel it. I think I'm in shock_," she babbled absently. "_But I'm glad I can't feel my toe—it's bleeding right now, and stubbed toes sting like a bitch—sorry, I didn't mean to use that word. …And Hiro's _**_hurt_**_,_" she repeated, her tone suddenly pleading.

Kagome had frozen right about the time the words 'dead wolf-man' had left the young woman's lips. That was a bit unexpected… Snatching her bow and arrows from the closet, she grabbed her keys from the bowl on top of the cabinet beside the door, and rushed to her car, house phone still in hand. "All right, Julia, I'm on my way, okay?"

Julia frowned when she heard the sudden purr of an engine over the phone. "_But…Hiro said Inuyasha…_"

"And Inuyasha isn't here," she reminded patiently. "I'm on my way—stay inside until I get there."

"_Okay._"

Kagome smiled as she pulled out of the dirt driveway. "How's your toe?"

"_It's still bleeding._"

"I'll doctor it while we wait for Hiroshi, okay?"

"_…He won't get lost in the woods, will he? It's really dark outside._"

"No, Sweetie. He knows what he's doing."

"_But his _**_shoulder_**," she reminded plaintively, and Kagome for once tamped down her maternal worry to express complete faith in Hiroshi's strength and capability. "_There was so much _**_blood_**_…_"

"Hiroshi is stronger than he looks. He'll be fine, Julia—I promise. …I think my phone's about out of range, so don't be surprised when it suddenly disconnects me, okay?"

A few seconds later, Kagome heard the click of the phone disconnecting as she put more distance between herself and her house. But she could see the lights on in Hiroshi's living room already, and when she pulled as close to his porch as she possibly could without running over spare legs, she shut off the engine and met Julia's eyes when the woman had opened the front door for her.

"Watch your step—his intestines are falling all over that first one."

Kagome grimaced at the youkai that had been thoroughly killed. By her son. "I see... Thank you for the warning."

Once the door was shut behind her, Kagome's keen eye examined the woman for any forgotten, unmentioned injuries as she lead the girl to her son's sofa. She suddenly noticed that the shirt she was wearing was much too big for her—it was one of Hiroshi's. "Oh, no! Did you get blood on your shirt?"

Julia sighed and sank down onto the couch, propping her elbows on her knees before bowing her head to sink her fingers into her hair. "Maybe. I don't know. It's outside."

"Your shirt is outside?" Kagome questioned again for clarification.

Julia was beginning to get frustrated with the woman already. Her son was out there _bleeding_ in the dark, dark woods. Really-who _cared_ about the shirt?

"Yes. I think so. Hiro threw it somewhere earlier—I wasn't really worried about it." And she discovered that this mindless talking helped distract her, helped clear her mind. It really was very cathartic.

That stopped the miko up short, and she floundered for a response. "…Oh."

She sat upright again and could feel her lips moving, but wasn't really paying attention to what she was saying. She just talked, and kept herself busy. "I wasn't even _wearing_ a shirt until I heard noises from outside. I got dressed but then a wolf tried to eat me, so Hiroshi cut him in half with that sword he keeps in his bedroom."

"Gintsume…" Kagome murmured automatically, suddenly at a loss for words. She just stared wide-eyed at the girl beside her, suddenly uncomfortable yet oddly delighted. "I see," she murmured again.

"But it _is_ a cute tank top—a light blue that fades to navy around the bottom. …It has a couple of bleach spots on it though—that's what I get for cleaning in good clothes. …Watch it have _blood_ on it now," she sighed, throwing her hands up in aggravated surrender before plopping back against the couch to sulk.

"So…" Kagome began slowly, licking her dry lips and clasping her hands together in her lap, "so you and Hiroshi are…dating."

"What? Oh...yes. For a while now. But we had a fight because he was a lying jerk. We made up today, though."

'_I really shouldn't be listening to this_,' Kagome thought guiltily, wringing her hands in her lap. But it was so _nice_ to hear that her oldest child was finally dating-and 'for a _while_ now'? _Why didn't he tell her_? She was his mother! She had a right to know these things! The first inklings of irritation set in-oh, she _would_ be talking to him when this was all over...

"That's great to hear. He's been in an awfully bad mood lately. I think he missed you a lot-lift your foot up, and I'll look at your toe."

The woman obeyed, hiking her foot into the other woman's lap, and watching her examine it with nimble fingers. "Oh, wow," she mused mildly. "That feels much better. Thank you."

The miko smiled at her and released her foot. "You're very welcome. So...about that man outside-"

"-The dead one?" Julia smoothed her skirt into a more modest length, suddenly remembering the absence of panties.

"Yes, the dead one. Has Hiroshi...talked to you at all about...well, about who he is?"

"Talked? Yes, there was talking."

Kagome looked intensely relieved, sagging back against the couch beside the young woman. "Oh _good_... For a moment, I thought... How awful that would have been to find out in that way."

"No, we talked. It came right before the good part."

Kagome forced an uncomfortable smile. Hiroshi, so private and polite, was never going to forgive her for letting Julia talk about their...intimacy. '_Really, _**_really_**_ shouldn't be listening to this,_' she amended.

"Hiro isn't completely human," Julia announced, glancing up from her nails just long enough to catch Kagome's eyes meaningfully. "He's a ghost-man. …Dog," she added after a brief pause. "Like in your stories."

Ever so slowly, Kagome nodded. She'd expected none of this, but…that might explain Julia's…present condition. A breakdown due to stress, maybe? Likely. Finding out her boyfriend wasn't human must have been a lot to take in. But having said boyfriend slice and dice a man right in front of her was probably the icing on the cake.

Hiroshi would be getting an earful about finesse later.

Cool hands were suddenly on holding her cheeks, and Julia looked up into the easy grey of Kagome's eyes. And then the miko smiled, and it was genuine and soft and sympathetic, and Julia was stunned by the sudden calm that engulfed her, clearing her muddled mind.

"It's all right, Julia," she promised. "You're safe, and Hiro will be back any minute now. And then we'll make him as good as new."

She took a deep, soothing breath and exhaled slowly, most of her excess anxiety leaving with it. "You didn't see his shoulder," she murmured at last, falling silent to chew on her lip. The...youkai was this giant wolf, and it just..."

Chuckling, Kagome pulled her hands away, and settled back on the couch to smirk knowingly at the girl.

Julia was affronted. "...It's not _funny_," she insisted, angry when she felt tears stinging at the corners of her eyes.

"Oh, no, Julia-I wasn't laughing because-I don't think it's funny, sweetie," Kagome assured her with a small smile. "You just reminded me of...well, of how I used to worry about Inuyasha. He, unfortunately, had much less tact on the battlefield back then than Hiro has now. So he was hurt often. It's incredibly scary, I know, but he always survived even the injuries that would kill anyone else."

Julia managed to look both uncertain and horrified, so Kagome laughed once, and assured her, "Inuyasha's too stubborn to die. Hiroshi inherited that stubbornness. You have nothing to worry about."

Twenty minutes after Kagome arrived, there was a solid knock on the door, and the young woman started violently, eyes raising to meet the miko's before she was on her feet and running for the door.

She was already half-way through unlocking it before she remembered- "Who is it?"

"It's me, Jules."

At his tired tone, she flung the door open, and bit back the urge to scream or vomit at the blood that covered his arm and ran down his chest. At the blood that dried brown on his hands and jeans.

"Um," she said, not knowing how much agony he was in, whether she should touch him or not.

But he just walked in with a careful, pitying smile and a "thanks" and continued on to the living room to meet his waiting mother. He watched her pale considerably as took in the damage dealt to his arm, but then she nodded and briskly strode over to him.

"He was too close to your throat. You have to be more careful than this, Hiroshi," she murmured as she reached out to touch the flayed flesh, bone crushed and exposed through the multiple holes ripped open. "Do you understand me?"

He watched as his flesh was slowly mended, a process he'd been subjected to far too many times this month. "It won't happen again. ...How's she doing?"

Kagome grimaced and kept her eyes on bone shifting beneath her fingers. "She knows that hanyou and youkai exist, right? She knew before tonight?"

"I told her today." He heaved a sigh and ran a blood-browned hand over his head. "She was asleep when they came. I was hoping she'd stay that way, but..." He looked uncomfortable when his mother released him and his body was flawless once again, and glanced over his shoulder to see Julia staring at him with an inscrutable expression. "She watched me rip him apart. She saw it all."

"You think she's scared of you," Kagome concluded with a soft smile. "Hiro, the whole situation was horrifying and traumatic. Be supportive and help her deal with it. By the way, remind me to purify you in the morning for not telling me, _your own mother_, that you and Julia are actually dating."

With a dry, tortured glance, he sighed again. "I don't think that should be a priority right now."

"Oh, it's a priority, Hiroshi. It's always a priority."

"Hm. Where is Father?"

She glared at him. "I know you're changing the subject-"

"Mother. There is a dead homicidal youkai in my yard, and another on the run," he reminded her carefully. "We'll talk about my relationship status tomorrow if we have to."

Kagome still looked annoyed, but relented. "Right... Pressing issues. Your father should be on his way back from Sesshoumaru's right now. He may even be back at the house by now." Grey eyes narrowed in concern when his back straightened with revelation, but then he forced himself to relax and breathe with a nod.

"All right. Good. Julia," he called out, turning to find her still standing where the entryway met the living room. "We're going to stay at my parents' tonight, all right?"

She nodded, cleared her throat. "Yeah, okay."

With one last, encouraging half-smile, he dug his cell out of his pocket, and watching the yard from his windows, he quickly dialed his uncle's number.

The Inu no Taisho answered on the first ring. "_Hiroshi_," he greeted blandly.

"I need you at my house," the hanyou told him without preamble. "Bring Tenseiga. If this works, we have a shot at actually getting somewhere tonight." His only response was the click of the line disconnecting, and, closing his cell, he shoved it back inside his pocket.

When he turned around, Kagome looked concerned, mouth pressed into a thin line.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Tenseiga? Hiroshi... His body is _destroyed_. What use could he possibly be...? If Tenseiga even _agrees_ to bring him back, he won't be intelligible, and he won't be able to answer any questions. He'll be _dying_-all over again."

"It's worth a shot," was all he said, and turned back to look out the window for any sign of life. He didn't think anyone else would bother them tonight, but he couldn't be positive. Once the youkai was counted missing, would they return for his body? "You ready to go?" he murmured when Julia appeared at his side, rubbing warmth into her arms and suddenly blushing as she stared incredulously at his unharmed shoulder.

'_What...?_' She decided it was best not to question the impossible at this point, but mentally stowed it away to bring up again later, at a more appropriate time.

"Um. Can you help me find my tank top first?" she mumbled, glancing pointedly towards Kagome, face pink. "I really don't want to go to your parents' house looking like I just crawled out of your bed." She half-expected to see a ghost of a smirk, half-expected him to tease, '_But you did just crawl out of my bed_,' but when she looked up at him, she knew he was giving her the minimum amount of his attention.

She felt a pang of irritation.

"What did you do with it?" he asked, obviously distracted as he looked out over the thick trees that divided the two Takenawa houses.

She jabbed him in the ribs pointedly with a finger. "_You_ threw it somewhere while we were outside earlier," she reminded quietly, her frustration evident.

Golden eyes finally looked down on her, and she watched his gaze sharpen into focus, into the present. "It's outs—?" He suddenly froze, cutting himself off as he blanched, a fleeting look of panic twitching across his features. She nodded with dry encouragement as he finally seemed to catch up with her, but frowned when he released a deep breath and said, "We'll look for it tomorrow, Jules. Just wear my shirt for now."

His face was carefully unreadable—she hated that. "Fine," she muttered tightly.

"Julia…it's been a really long day… Please don't pick a fight over a shirt."

His weary chastisement was enough to make her bubble over-it was too much. '_Don't pick a... How _dare_ he tell me not to pick a fight, when-_'

"_Oh_!" she seethed, wrapping the entirely too-large button-up closer to her narrow frame and building herself up. "It's not even _about_ the shirt! It's _about_ the fact that there are wolf-man intestines spilling all over your porch!" When she saw his face, she began to have second thoughts about pursuing this confrontation. But she didn't have to. He pursued it, instead.

"Would you rather I'd let him _kill_ you?" he snapped back, his features twisted in a frustrated fury. That fury combined with the newly-discovered wildness of his features made her take a step back when he began to advance upon her. "Because _that's_ what he was trying to do, Julia! If you'd have just stayed in the fucking house like I told you, there wouldn't _be_ wolf-guts on my steps. He'd still be alive—and maybe we'd be halfway to finally finding out who's been butchering all these kids for the past goddamn year!"

"_Hiro_shi!"

He paled at his mother's horrified exclamation, at the completely and tragically stunned wide eyes of the young woman before him. At some point during his anger, she had folded her arms into protective wings against her breasts, balled hands resting inches under her chin as she leaned away from him. After the brief flare of anger, guilt made his tongue thick and throat dry

"Shit," she heard him breathe, before he reached out to touch her cheek, but-seeing the brown blood that had dried on his fingers-stopped before making contact. "I'm sorry, Jules. I didn't mean that."

He frowned when she said nothing, but just stared ahead in horror, and he could actually see pieces of the puzzle clicking into place, he could see conclusion and understanding dawning at a rapid and chaotic rate. He could read the thoughts and memories as they happened across her brow, her thinly pressed lips, her eyes that couldn't decide what to focus on as they flicked in all directions.

Now she was realizing that the youkai held a connection with the murders she'd seen all over the papers for the past year.

And now, she was realizing that the youkai had made a very valiant attempt to reach her. And now, visualizing what he could have done to her.

Her eyes brightened with unshed tears as her throat strained to hold them back, and he knew she was remembering the pictures that she had seen that day on the news. Those horrible, horrible pictures of children much younger than she, of children much less _intact_ than she. Ten seconds after his words had hit her, he saw the first glimpse of devastation and self-loathing, and the guilt intensified.

"Hey," he murmured, ducking to catch her gaze and offering her a small, assuring smile as he pulled her above her damning thoughts. "I was frustrated, and I took it out on you. I'm an ass. Nothing that happened tonight was even remotely your fault. Understand?"

She was still tense from her valiant effort to hold back her tears, but she nodded quickly, hoping he would leave her alone now and stop watching her with those eyes lit with concern that made her that much more upset.

He looked doubtful now, and was about to assure her again when she asked, "Should you, um, wash your hands?" Her high, falsely-bright voice made him pause, and he nodded carefully.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay... I'll be right back." He could only turn away from her to wash the gore from his hands, leaving her alone with the miko.

"Julia..."

The woman offered Kagome a quick, forced smile and blinked away the urge for tears. "I'm sorry, I'm just going to..." She moved over to the couch and sat down stiffly, her fingers clenching the fabric of her skirt.

Kagome pitied her, could sympathize with her. She did, after all, know what it felt like to be weighted down by an uncertain future of death on her hands. She wondered if she would bounce back with resilient determination and optimism, or if she would lose a piece of herself every time she received news of another mutilated child.

And Kagome, inexplicably, remembered passing through her first ghost village of mutilated corpses on her quest for the shards, back when she was young and so fucking _innocent_...

For the first time in years, the miko felt her heart twist and harden with long-forgotten guilt, and wondered how it was that the past hadn't wrenched everything she was capable of out of her yet-she'd already given and caused and _felt_ so much...

She followed after her son into the kitchen and found him scrubbing his hands, roughly, efficiently. An ear flicked toward her, but he kept his eyes on the red-tinged water swirling down the drain, before wetting a rag and sponging some of the blood on his arm and chest away. Even after he'd dried his hands, he didn't turn to face her, but gripped the sink and stared at, into, through the window.

Her jaw clenched. "Hiroshi. Look at me."

And when she slapped him, struck him across the cheek for the first time in his life, he couldn't react. He didn't know how. But he couldn't be indignant or upset because he deserved it-and more. So he accepted it, and waited warily to see what she would do next because she looked much more miserable than she should for an ill-advised off-hand remark that wasn't directed at her and was immediately regretted.

"I don't care how upset you are," she murmured thickly, and he could hear nothing but emotion and memories in her unsteady voice, "you don't _ever_ put something like that on anyone. _Do you understand me_?"

Because how many deaths weighed down her conscience? How long had it taken her to come to terms with that? How had it felt to have it thrown in her face?

She remembered Miroku, gentle and firm, shielding her from her mate's careless words-the words he'd thrown at her in his upset and worry after she was torn away from death.

With a humorless, bitter smile, she thought, '_It seems tonight is a night for nostalgia._'

She waited for his careful nod, and sighed glumly. "Good. Now, I'm going home, and I want to take Julia with me until that...mess outside is taken care of, alright?"

"All right," he agreed. "I'll escort you."

"Your father should be there by now. He'll want to talk to you about what happened." After three seconds of uncomfortable silence-"Oh, don't be so formal and tense, Hiroshi," she complained at last, face laced with exasperated annoyance. "I know that slap didn't hurt you, and you needed some sensitivity smacked into you."

He snorted, but refrained from commenting, watching as her face finally softened, and she reached up to cup his cheek with a warm hand. "I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings, Hiro. But words like that hold more weight than you'd think. How long do you think it will be before she sees the news and doesn't blame herself for what she sees there?"

He sighed, and her hand fell away from him. "I deserved it," he said, and smiled wanly. "I'm not upset. ...Still feel like an asshole, though." His smile was tilted, barely there. "I used to pride myself in my rational thinking and ability to remain calm under duress. I may have to rethink my high opinion of that particular 'strength.'"

His mother shook her head, grinning wryly. "It never fails to amaze me how you are so blatantly your father's son _and_ your uncle's nephew-at the same time." Seeing the look on his face, she threw in with a sly smile, "That's a compliment, I guess."

With another snort, he entered his small laundry room and fished a clean cotton t-shirt out of the dryer, pulling it over his head. "All right, then. Let's go ahead and get Julia away from here. Uncle Sesshoumaru should be here any minute, and I need to get Father."

* * *

The moment the miko opened the front door, they were greeted with her mate's beckoning from the living room. "Oi, wench, you didn't tell me you were on call tonight."

She was slipping off her shoes when Inuyasha rounded the corner, eyes flicking from his mate to his son to the preoccupied-looking woman who was lost in thought in his doorway.

"Everyone okay?" he asked gruffly, brow furrowing.

Kagome bit her lip and jerked her head toward the Julia in a silent gesture. "Hiro will catch you up. I'm going to go put some clean sheets on his bed so Julia can get some sleep. Come on, sweetie."

She shot an uneasy glance at the hanyou. "I guess I'll see you...when you're done, um...working?"

"Sure, Jules." She tried to return his soft smile and nod before turning to follow Kagome.

Inuyasha waited until she had disappeared up the stairs before frowning at his son. "What the hell happened to you? You reek of blood and—" He cut himself off as his eyebrows disappeared beneath his bangs, his nose twitching.

Hiroshi thought he might have seen a ghost of a smirk before he narrowed his eyes at his father. "Not a word," he warned, wiping a hand down his face in an entirely weary manner.

"About what?"

He was positive he saw a smile on the older hanyou's face now, though his expression somehow simultaneously seemed blank.

"You gonna tell me what happened? I smell blood all over you, pup. And not all of it's yours."

Hiroshi sighed. "I didn't have time to take a shower before I came down," he muttered in lieu of an apology. "Two youkai stopped by my house about an hour ago." He noted Inuyasha's eyes flaring before narrowing but didn't pause for interruptions. "One ran before I made it outside—some sort of raptor youkai. Probably a kite. The other one—a wolf—stayed and fought me."

Inuyasha's mouth fell open when his son indicated that he was finished talking, and he forced his jaw shut with a click. "You fuckin' killed him, didn't you?" he sighed before snarling in frustration. "Hiroshi! God dammit…"

"Look, I screwed up, I know. I'm sorry—I hadn't planned on killing him, but-"

"You hadn't _planned_—" Inuyasha repeated, eyes widening once again, but Hiroshi cut him off.

"—He was going after Julia. I didn't even think—just acted."

"Hiroshi…" The hanyou sighed and massaged his temples before pinning a tired eye on his son. "And you followed the other youkai?

"There was a car waiting for her, of course. I was more than five minutes behind."

"Jesus Christ. So fucking close…"

"I know. I'm sorry."

"But Julia's okay, is she?"

When the hanyou's lips curled back into a silent snarl, Inuyasha raised a black brow. "There's something else," he growled lowly. "When I was tracking the kite, I noticed Julia's scent following her. She has her fucking shirt. She came to _my_ house, took Julia's fucking _shirt_, and _bolted_."

"They were inside your house?"

"…No. …The shirt was outside," he muttered, cheeks pinking, and was grateful when Inuyasha didn't comment.

"So… In other words, they have her scent," Inuyasha surmised.

"They have her scent," Hiroshi confirmed. "The youkai didn't dissolve. I called Sesshoumaru about five minutes ago and told him to bring Tenseiga. It's nearing an hour now, though, so we have to move fast."

"All right, Pup. Let's move out, then. Sesshoumaru will throw a bitch-fit if he has to wait on us. Oi, wench! We'll be back in a little while," he called up the stairs. He didn't wait for her reply before he followed his son out the door, and through the woods, neither of them saying anything until they reached the clearing in front of Hiroshi's house

The scent of blood was thick in the air, and Inuyasha wrinkled his nose. "What the fuck did he _do_ to you?" he asked, lip curling at the bloodied spot where Hiroshi had been thrown.

"Shoulder," he grunted. "Not a big deal."

"Jesus-fucking-Christ, Hiro," Inuyasha muttered, squinting ahead in the darkness at the body sprawled beneath the porch lights. "You cut him in half?"

The young hanyou was scowling. "He ran into my blade without slowing down."

"And he was after the girl?"

Hiroshi was quiet for a moment as they approached the body, and Inuyasha surveyed the damage done. "He thought she was my mate," he said at last, and felt his father's eyes slide to him, felt a spike of indignant anger.

"...That dirty _fucker_..."

He hummed in the back of his throat and glanced over the clearing for signs of life, for his uncle or something worse. "I'm not sure what to expect next. Will they track her to her apartment? Will they track her to her job? Is it just a threat? I don't know how seriously to take this," he admitted, starting when Inuyasha clasped his shoulder, still staring at the thoroughly dead body.

"Maybe it'd be a good idea to just keep a close eye on her for a while. Until this blows over." He shrugged, releasing his hold on his son and trying to hide his grimace. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

Running his hands ran over his head in a decidedly weary manner, he locked them behind his neck as he looked up at the sky with a humorless smile. "She's going to hate me for doing this to her."

"Then let her hate you for it now, and make it up to her later. Trust me, Pup-you can't be too careful with these things..." Inuyasha paused with a smirk. "Bout time you got here. Christ-'Gome just sent word by snail mail that she was glad she no longer aged like regular humans."

Sesshoumaru was striding briskly through the grass in an impeccable business suit. "Yes. Well, I'm exponentially older, as well, just from listening to that horrible, rambling joke."

Inuyasha's smirk shifted smoothly into a petulant scowl. "Fuck you, that was funny."

"I beg to differ," he sneered, cool eyes falling upon the mutilated youkai. "There were two of them, I presume?"

Hiroshi nodded. "I chased after the other, but she was ahead by several minutes."

"He knew who you were." It was a statement, not a question, but Hiroshi nodded again anyway.

"He called me the Interrogator. They've been watching me."

Sesshoumaru took a careful sniff before leveling a sharp, slanted look at him. "You had company..."

"Julia was here, yes-"

"Did she see?"

"Yeah, but-"

"I see."

"We can talk about this later," Hiroshi snapped, borrowing his father's scowl at Sesshoumaru's hard tone. "You're on a deadline, Uncle."

There was a long moment of silence, before the taisho pulled the ancient heirloom from its scabbard with an icy 'very well.' "Lower the torso to the ground, and flip him over," he commanded. "His waist should be pressed against the top half, as well." He waited while Hiroshi and Inuyasha wordlessly tried to stick the two bloodied halves together, Hiroshi carefully folding entrails back into the body and soiling his hands all over again. Sesshoumaru closed his eyes as he called forth the ancient katana, asking it to open the gates to the other worlds, to hell.

"Fuck, it ain't gonna work," Inuyasha was grumbling beside him. "Sesshoumaru, your sword is a bitch."

Sesshoumaru's eyes remained closed, and Inuyasha could see a muscle in the finely set jaw twitch. "If you'd be so kind as to cease your babbling... No one cares."

And then Tenseiga, in the name of the hundred children that had died already, in the name of the hundred children that had yet to die, agreed to bring life to one that didn't deserve it. After an elegant and quick sweep through the air, it was re-sheathed at his hip.

The wolf's glassy eye began to un-cloud, and slowly the pupil retracted into focus as they watched him and waited. And then with a desperate heave of his chest, he gasped for air, starved for it, panting as his eye flew around him, from Hiroshi, to his father, to the Great Dog himself. He could already taste blood in his mouth, threatening to choke him, and he gasped some more.

"His wounds aren't healing quickly enough," Hiroshi murmured, shooting a pregnant glance at his uncle. "We've got to make this quick."

"Understood. State your name, youkai."

The wolf twitched beneath their unwavering gaze, and this time it wasn't from madness. He opened his mouth-and screamed, wild and panicked now, stopping only to cough up more and more blood.

"W-what did you _do_ to me?" he gasped, horrified. "My _legs_..."

Sesshoumaru looked uninterested in his plight, and beside him, Inuyasha shifted uncomfortably. "Yes. We don't have time for that. Your name."

The wolf, with his sallow, bloodied, half-face, attempted to sneer, but it pained him. "You can call me Gabriel, you insufferable p-prick." He coughed some more, bled some more, and closed his eyes to wait for death.

"You're attempting to bait me to end your life sooner. I assure you it will not work. You will die only when I allow you to do so. Now speak, _Gabriel_. I want to know who you're working for."

"God," he muttered, and for a moment Sesshoumaru thought he was praying until he realized that was his answer.

"God," the wolf repeated, and his claws twitched at his sides, attempted to raise to pierce his own throat. However, Hiroshi was faster, heel coming down hard enough to make his twitching fingers useless with a strangled yelp, while Inuyasha crouched to hold his other, broken arm down, frowning at the foot crushing the youkai's other hand.

Carefully, Hiroshi removed his foot from the rapidly swelling fingers, and knelt beside the youkai, lowering his mouth to his ear to murmur, "Your friend, the raptor-what is her name?"

With a pained, wheezing chuckle, the wolf swallowed iron and copper and everything metallic and crimson and opened his eyes to watch the stars. "Her name is G-Gabriel."

"...I see."

Another chuckle, another grimace, and Hiroshi could see his tongue trying to work in his mouth through the 'nothing' and teeth where his cheek once was. "No. You don't. But it's b-better that way."

He could hear snarling and it took him a moment to realize it was coming from his own mind. Stravinsky's strong, doomed thrumming helped, and he swallowed his fury at the wolf's deliberately mocking and vague answer. "She took something, didn't she? Something that belonged to the woman you saw."

The twitches were getting worse, and Hiroshi placed an hand on his shoulder to try to steady him. But then their eyes connected, and though he was dying, though he was mutilated and in unimaginable pain, the youkai looked smug and vicious. And in that look, Hiroshi saw a promise of bitter, brutal revenge. He saw the threat of blood and guts and violence, and as the blood rushed from his face, leaving him lightheaded, he thought he was going to be sick.

She was just so _human_, her life so fragile and fleeting... And they were so vicious and merciless... It would only take one mistake. One moment. One moment with the wrong youkai, and that was that. And it was such a terrifying and irreversible realization, that he had to fight the strong impulse to grab her and run, make a clean getaway. Leave her somewhere unknown, where no one would get to her. Or maybe stay with her there.

"I don't k-know, Interrogator," the youkai sneered. "Is your b-bitch _missing_ something?"

Inuyasha caught his son's balled fist before it could come down hard and _crushing_ on the man's windpipe. And when rationality caught up with his actions, all of the warmth was sucked from his body, and stunned, he met his father's eyes.

Inuyasha sighed, and with a nod, released him. "Go to the house and check on the girl. We got this covered."

And still amazed at his own impulses, Hiroshi nodded, numb. "Yeah... That'd probably be best..."

"It's normal, you know," Inuyasha said, and it wasn't a question but a statement. "To feel that way, when..."

"Yeah," Hiroshi said, still reeling over his ever-slipping control on..._everything_. "Yeah..."

"Alright, then... I'll see you at the house."

"Quiet," Sesshoumaru commanded. "He's speaking."

They froze and watched the wolf's lips move with no coherent sound, and as they waited, silence graduated to the barest of murmurs as he slipped in and out of coherence, and then in again. His voice strengthened, and they could finally make out his words.

"-and b-banished me from the kingdom," he was whispering, trying to focus on any of their faces, on the sky, on the pain coursing strong throughout his body as he tried to deliver his last rites. "You called me a m-monster. I called myself a monster. You s-said you'd tamed m-me, and you forced me to hide myself behind a collar and a h-housec-coat. And then you forgot me. _I_ even forgot me..." He paused, shuddered violently, and turned to the side to vomit the blood he'd been swallowing. And very real panic twisted his face when he realized he was running out to time, and there was a possibility he wasn't going to finish. He pressed on, and they were silent, faces hard around him. "W-well... We'll all remember now. There're...s-some things you c-can't tame. ...Can't forget. I am Gabriel," he spat, struggling to breathe. He took one last gulp of air, and met Sesshoumaru's gaze, cool and unreadable. "And th-this is...my _message_."

And then his eye rolled back and the violent shuddering claimed him, and he was nothing but half a man, twitching and frothing blood, choking on vomit and life. He reeked of death that eluded him, as he surrendered to his message and Sesshoumaru's mercy. At his hip, Tenseiga thrummed unhappily at the abuse, but it was Inuyasha who caught his brother's attention after seconds ticked away. His spasms unnerved the elder hanyou, and he rose to his feet again to meet his brother's bored gaze. "For fuck's sake, Sesshoumaru-let him die! He doesn't have anything else to tell you. He's too far gone."

"Hm." Beside Tenseiga, Tokijin hung restlessly on his waist, greedy and glorious when it was finally released. "Very well."

Hiroshi watched as that katana, so hungry for life and death, plunged through a bulging eye, through brain and bone. He watched as the spasms stopped altogether, and the wolf rejoined the dead. And then he lifted himself from his crouch at the corpse's side and wiped his hands on his pants, waiting wearily for any more orders.

"You're fucked up, Sesshoumaru," Inuyasha grumbled with a grimace.

"Was it not quick enough for your taste?" Sesshoumaru drawled sarcastically, flicking the blood and matter from his sword with a fling of his wrist. "I promise you it was much faster-and therefore more humane-than the stomach injuries you're so fond of dealing."

"Whatever. Call someone to come get the body, you icy bastard. I'm goin' home. Coming, Hiro?"

When his son looked uncertain, Inuyasha rolled his eyes and folded his arms across his chest. "It's two o'clock in the morning, Hiroshi. You're officially off the clock. We can talk about this tomorrow-isn't that right?"

Sesshoumaru hummed a mild agreement, already entering a number into his cell and distracted. "See to Julia and get some sleep. Tomorrow will not be the most pleasant of days, I'm afraid."

* * *

Thirty minutes and a shower later, he was in fresh sweats and no longer reeked so strongly of wolf blood. His mother had told him that she'd led Julia up to his old bedroom to sleep, and now, as his hand fell upon the doorknob, it occurred to him how anxious he was about this particular confrontation. Chances were, she was asleep, as there were less than four hours before dawn. But the night had been pretty traumatic from her point of view, so there was a chance...

With a deep, calming breath, he opened the door, a thin, long streak of light from the hallway following behind him and revealing the woman buried under his comforter. Her eyes were closed, but her heartbeat irregular. She was awake.

'_At least,_' it began, the optimist for once, '_that means she's _**_alive_**_._'

"Julia?"

His hushed voice cracked the true silence of his old bedroom, and when she didn't move beneath the covers, he thought she was going to feign sleeping to avoid talking to him.

And maybe that was for the best. Today had been rough on her. Tonight, even more so. But that didn't stop his gut from twisting, wringing at her avoidance.

'_Alright_,' he thought calmly. '_Alright_.' He began backing out of his room to give her the solitude she wanted. If there was anyplace in all of Japan that was safer than his uncle's house, it was this place. She could be alone here if she needed it.

"Where are you going?"

Her voice was hoarse from disuse, and he froze, hand still outstretched to pull the door shut after him. In the low light that leaked in from the cracked door, he allowed her a small smile. "I wanted to check in on you."

"Are you leaving?" she asked, rephrasing her question.

"No, Jules. I just didn't know if you wanted..."

There was the sound of fabric sliding against itself, and in the darkness, he could see that she'd made more room for him and was waiting for him to lay down beside her. Closing the door softly behind him, he was all too relieved at the invitation. And when he sank into the covers beside her, she wiggled around to face him in darkness that her human eyes couldn't pierce.

"Is everything all right?"

"Yes," he breathed against her forehead, taking in as much of her scent as he could. "Everything's fine."

He could smell discomfort and anxiety rolling off her in waves now, and it physically pained him. "I'm...I'm really sorry, Hiro," she murmured, her voice tripping over itself, and he thought she was going to cry. "I don't know why...I couldn't move, and I know I should have listened to you, but-"

"Julia." She flinched at his steady voice, a non-whisper, and felt a warm hand on her cool cheek. "Listen to me-you did _nothing_ wrong. It was an unfortunate and unexpected situation that you couldn't possibly be prepared for-"

"-But you acted," she whispered. "You could think rationally. I just...stood there."

His laughter was soft and quiet against her, and his hand moved from her cheek to her shoulder, trailing down her arm and wrapping around her back. "I did what I had to do. What I've been trained to do since I was a child," he reminded her. "You, on the other hand, didn't know that youkai even existed until today. And to see one in his true form..." He sighed when she said nothing. "Honestly, I'm impressed that you're still talking to me..."

She was worrying her bottom lip, and he was further endeared to her, reaching out to run his thumb softly over the bruising, damp flesh. She gasped against him, and his hand fell away to return to her back again.

"You saved me," she realized suddenly, and seemed to consider that for a moment. And when she smiled, it was small but genuine. "My Hiro." Her smile widened when he smothered his snickering.

"I think I'm the one that put you in danger to begin with," he reminded her, and her smile died on her lips. He felt its loss instantly. "About tonight... Jules, you weren't meant to see that."

"Will more come?"

"It's possible."

Panic gripped her firmly for just a moment, before she took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "But...oh..."

Her vision was beginning to adjust to the dark, and she thought she could see his lips tilt into a ghost of a smirk, bitter and twisted. "You don't need to worry about that, Julia."

Remembering the deranged bloodthirst that twisted it's massive, brutalized face, the paws the size of her head that dug up earth with each powerful stride, Julia decided that not worrying about it was a mistake. If there was ever something to worry about, it was the possibility that more just as horrifying as he would follow.

"Hiroshi, the wolf-the youkai, he was huge, and he had fangs and claws-"

"And I have fangs and claws, as well," he reminded her, and she paused to consider his words. He could hear her trying to align the Hiroshi she knew with the bloodied, efficient hanyou she'd seen rip the youkai to shreds.

"I suppose you're not as harmless as I believed," she told him with a small smile.

"I suppose," he agreed, "I'm not."

"He wasn't the first you've killed, was he?"

Sensing the trepidation in her voice, he frowned and considered lying-it used to be so easy, but _fuck_ if he didn't feel guilty the moment he considered it... "No. He wasn't."

"Can I ask... How many?"

"Enough, Jules. I've killed enough. And I'll kill more if it comes to that." And it _will_. He knew it, of course. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that tonight was the last time he'd ever be forced to take a life.

"Have you ever...you know...?"

His confused look assured her that he did not, and she swallowed and continued.

"Killed...someone that wasn't youkai?"

The question whipped through the air, lashing against him, and he shot her a sharp look. "Humans, you mean."

She winced at his terse tone and immediately began back-peddling. She'd _offended_ him... "No, I-I didn't mean... I'm sorry," she sighed. "I'm not trying to insinuate that you are anything like the...monster from tonight."

He was silent for a long while before she felt him relax at her side. "It's fine. And no, it's only been youkai-youkai that are irrevocably dangerous to humans, hanyou, and other youkai."

She nodded slowly, and her fingers found and grasped the fabric of his t-shirt. "Why...why was he there? Do they show up at your house often looking for a fight?"

"No," he said, ignoring her first question. "Tonight was a first."

She pressed her face into his chest, inhaling deeply and comforting herself with his crisp, cool scent-like pine needles in the wintertime. "I don't understand why he wanted to get to me so badly when he was already...fighting you..."

His arms tightened around her, and she felt his breath stirring her hair, felt his lips move against her forehead. "He thought we were mated," he told her, and when she pulled back looking for clarification, he gave her none, and said instead- "I think you should stay with me for a while. In my house, or your apartment, it doesn't matter. Would you be okay with that?"

Frowning, she searched his face carefully, looking for any hints to give him away. "...Do you think that's necessary?" she asked slowly, and-_there_! Something urgent passed behind his eyes, and she realized how worried he was. '_I should be really worried, too, shouldn't I? Terrified, even._'

The thought was alien to her, and she was suddenly entirely numb to the matter.

"It would make me feel better, knowing where you are," he admitted.

"Mm. Well. If you think I should, then..."

He chuckled, and her numb body began to warm itself again pressed close to him. "You don't have to stay in my bed if you don't want to, though you're certainly welcome to-" She snorted, smiled wryly, and a hand released his shirt to trace the edges of a fur-covered ear, watching it flick and jump against her soft fingertips.

"I'll bet I am..."

"You are," he assured her again. "But if you want your own space, something can be arranged. I'll sleep on the couch or something."

"I think we're past sleeping in separate rooms now," she tried to tease. "But that's sweet." She was silent for a while, and her fingers fell from his ear to his jawline, gingerly tracing her way to his chin, to his lips. "I'm not scared of you, you know," she finally declared, setting her jaw when she felt him freeze under her touch. "I know you didn't want me to see you with...with the wolf tonight. But it doesn't change how I see you. I just...thought you'd want to know that."

And then he exhaled, slowly, deeply, all of the tension was breathed out of his body. And in the darkness, he smiled at her, reached out to brush her hair behind an ear and letting his fingers curl around the base of her neck to pull her closer.

When his lips touched hers with heartbreaking tenderness, Julia tasted truth in them. Tasted reality and fate and soul and heart. She thought she would cry from the beauty and epiphany, and was amazed when she smiled against him instead.

Then his lips left hers, rubbed against her skin as he pulled her into a hug. "No one's going to hurt you, Julia. I promise I'm not going to let that happen," he whispered against her temple, folding himself more thoroughly around her, pulling her closer as though he could shield her from everything forever.

And she honestly thought...

* * *

_Dun Dun DUUUUUNNNNN!_

_I had so much fun with this chapter! AND I got to use my favorite song ever for it, which actually means a lot to me, lol. My Document Manager has been acting up/not italicizing my words, etc. So I copy and pasted the chapter from Word, and tried to correct any out-of-order pasting because for some reason it wants to put the last line before the first... Let me know if something doesn't make sense, and I'll correct it._

_Anyway, thanks for reading! Hope you all enjoyed this chapter! The next update is probably a few weeks away, if not a month. Finals are coming up, and I've only just started the chapter. And reviews would be lovely!_

* * *

**_Quotes of Randomness:_**

_"You never knew. That was his power. __The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled_ was convincing the world he didn't exist. " - Verbal Kent, 'The Usual Suspects'

_"A real panic took hold of me. I didn't know where I was going. I ran along the docks, turned into the deserted streets in the Beauvoisis district; the houses watched my flight with their mournful eyes. I repeated with anguish: Where shall I go? where shall I go? Anything can happen. Sometimes, my heart pounding, I made a sudden right about turn: what was happening behind my back? Maybe it would start behind me and when I would turn around, suddenly, it would be too late. " - "Nausea" by Jean-Paul Sartre_


	17. Warning Rattles

_Chapter 17: Warning Rattles_

* * *

_Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha._

* * *

_Surprise! I'm not dead—in fact, far from it. I've just completed graduate school! And now, I have an awesome job and am living in an amazing city, leading a fast-paced life. I cannot apologize enough for the prolonged absence, which I'm sure has ruined the mood of the story. But I'm afraid the next few chapters will be sort of rough for me. I have some later chapters written, but still need to bridge past chapters to the future/final chapters. But don't worry! It will happen._

_Also, I want to apologize in advance for the horrifically stereotypical phonetic Russian accent at the end of this chapter. It's pretty awful and James-Bond-villain-esque. Just humor me._

_I want to address a couple of questions really quickly before we move on to the story:_

_**Q: ****"Does Hiroshi not know the circumstances of his 'birth'? How much gets left out of the family story?"**_

_**A:** No, Hiroshi does not know anything about Masuru, about his impromptu caesarian delivery, or even Kagome's death. Like any fairytale, there are differences in some tellings of the story. The 'death of the miko' has made an appearance in some of the tellings, followed by her resurrection. But none of those include Masuru because he never existed in this timeline. And none include Sesshomaru's sword (also a family secret), though the Inu no Taisho does have a role (vague in its description) in her rebirth. Kagome and Inuyasha always leave her actual death out of the story, so their children tend to accept their version as the truth, since they were there, and it did happen to them. General tellings have her gravely injured, left for dead because her power to heal was unknown by Naraku (and had Hiroshi a couple of weeks later, in her era)—that's what their children grew up hearing._

_**Q: "Are you going to finish this story?"**_

_**A:** Yes. I fully intend to, and again I apologize for taking such an ungodly and irritatingly long time to post. You are all awesome and deserve way better than that! Now that I'm finished with school for the time being, I hope to devote a fair amount of time to this story._

* * *

_"So far away. Come on, I'll take you far away. Let's get away. Come on, let's make a getaway. Once you have loved someone this much, you doubt it could fade, despite how much you'd like it to. God, how you'd like it, you'd like it to fade. Let's fade together, let's fade forever."_

_-"Fade Together" by Franz Ferdinand_

* * *

It was sinfully early in the morning, especially considering how late it was before they finally went to bed the night before. But Julia was wide awake, lost in thought as she watched the hanyou beside her sleep. Her eyes had long adjusted to the dark, and she could make out the fine features on his face now with the moonlight from the window at his back. Every now and then, as though conscious of her eyes on him, an ear twitched of its own volition, and her face softened each time. It was endearing, she supposed. But then she continued on with her train of thought, until she resented the dead youkai for making her unable to thoroughly enjoy all of these new truths. To enjoy just being with Hiro again-they should be in his house right now, in his bed, still naked and wrapped up in each other.

How frustrating.

But what could she do about it now? What had she even been able to do before when it was alive and running at her?

Nothing. Nothing, at all.

He was dead and gone-most of what was left of him, down the drain as the washing machine's spin cycle beat him out of Hiroshi's jeans. The rest of him would be washed away by the next rain, if whoever took the body didn't hose him away already.

She grimaced when she realized the blood would probably stain the steps, and then she remembered the way his body fell against Hiroshi's unyielding sword. And the way he looked at her with that one eye that wasn't gouged out, a quarter of the skin from his face completely removed. She remembered the frantic desperation that died in that dark eye the moment he met with Gintsume.

She also remembered the blood.

And then she remembered the dull and solid and painful thud of his head bouncing against the edge of a step with the rest of his torso as Hiroshi went rigid with fury, which he voiced.

Hiroshi was odd, wasn't he? She'd always known that, but today, tonight had taken her to new depths. He looked so harmless now, sleeping beside her. Even the defined angles of his face failed to detract a certain softness when he slept. He was so careful with her, so sweet-

Except when he wasn't. She flushed uncomfortably at her thoughts. She couldn't really blame him for yelling at her, though it was obvious he blamed himself. He, like she, was surprised by the attack and the events that unfolded afterwards. Coming from such a powerful family, he probably wasn't used to feeling helpless. But knowing that his cruel words were fueled only by frustration and helplessness didn't lessen the blow at the time.

'_Powerful family…_'

It had just suddenly occurred to her... And the longer she thought about it, the more indignant she became.

"Hiroshi...? Are you awake?"

After a moment of silence, an eye cracked open. "That depends. Do I absolutely have to be?" He could feel her nod.

"Yes."

He groaned, rolling onto his back to throw an arm over his head, and closing his eyes again anyway. She poked his shoulder to assure he was still paying attention to her and received an unenthusiastic grunt in response.

"So...you have super-strength. That means that _Mimi_ has super-strength, too, right?"

His head lolled over to make sure he'd heard her right, and his body followed soon after, lying on its side again. He tried to figure out where she was going with this. "Yes..."

"Ah-ha! That cheating little...! No wonder she wins every single match! Hiro, they aren't fair fights!" she told him, her mind officially blown.

He snorted, small smile tilting his lips. "You find out that hanyou and youkai exist, that I'm one of them, we are attacked the very same night, and you watched me kill a man who was making a valiant effort to kill _you_, and that's what you woke me up for? Your kickboxing matches?"

"You don't understand! Hiro, I'm training with a superhero! I'll bet if I fought someone like-"

She gasped in outrage when his arm wrapped under and around her head so that his hand could effectively cover her mouth. "Go back to sleep, Jules," he murmured, eyes closed and smirking tiredly as he pulled her closer.

She was still talking, annoyed, every syllable skewed against his muffling hand.

"What's that? You're mumbling, Jules. You have to enunciate-" He was still smiling when she managed to peel his hand away, trying to glower up at him.

"You're not nearly as funny as you think, Hiroshi Takenawa."

"Oh...the full name," he yawned, tongue curling before he released her to stretch. His body shuddered into unwanted clarity and awareness beside her, and he tried to ignore it in favor of more sleep. "Terrifying."

She sat up beside him and crossed her legs before her. "You're not going back to sleep are you?" she whispered hopefully, leaning over to watch his face. When his eyes opened once again, she offered an apologetic grin, and he shook his head at her cheesiness.

It was five in the morning, and if he were being honest, he really would have liked another hour-maybe even an hour and a half before he had to get up for what was promised to be a hellish day at work...

"No, Jules," he relented, small smile toying with his lips. "I'm awake. What's up?"

There was a heavy sigh. "I can't sleep."

He hummed his lack of surprise, and guilt once again turned his stomach. "I didn't think you'd be able to," he admitted. "Did you have a nightmare?"

She shook her head. "I haven't been able to sleep yet."

"How long have I been out?"

"Two, maybe three hours?"

"Mm. What time do you need to be on set?"

"I don't. They're working on the Queen's solo scenes today and Monday."

He couldn't even pretend to be anything other than relieved at that news, though she seemed a bit frustrated by her upcoming inactivity.

"I'm sure Kannon and Mimi will keep you occupied enough to the point where going back to work will feel like the vacation," he joked, reaching out for her and smiling when she sank back to the covers beside him, instinctively folding into him before his arms were even around her.

She was quiet for a long moment, before she pulled back enough to meet his eyes. "Thank you for talking. I know you have a long day, and I know you want to sleep, but… Thanks." He came willingly when she pulled his face in for a chaste kiss.

"Well, we did get that nap in earlier today" he reminded her, hand trailing lazily from her cheek to graze a breast before finding and settling on her hip. Her breath caught in her throat when his thumb made soft slow swipe across her bikini line. "So sacrificing an hour or two isn't so bad."

"And you're sure sex is out of the question?" she breathed, only half-teasing. Her eyes drifted to his mouth, watching his lips pull back into a grin.

"Could you imagine spending the rest of your life with me? How horrible that would be."

"A fate worse than death," she agreed, trying not to laugh before he pressed his lips to hers again, before he ran his tongue along the plump flesh, before she opened for him, fingers clenching and unclenching against his chest.

When he broke away, he was serious, but still smiling, and she found that smile contagious—so peaceful. "There's no rush. We have all the time in the world." She nodded against him. "I'm afraid you'll find that our family isn't exactly conventional. And this—_dating_—is one thing I want to do in as normal a manner as possible. It doesn't have to be a whirlwind." A strand of her hair found itself wrapped around one of his fingers, and she watched, fascinated. "We can take our time, feel each other out," he murmured before his lips found hers again—all too briefly. "And I should also probably remind you that we _are_ in my parents' house. And that my father and siblings' senses are every bit as enhanced as mine." He winked when she pulled back in horror.

"Just when I thought you were beginning to sound like the dashing, shirtless hero on the cover of a dime-store romance," she muttered, and he laughed.

"Is that right?" Oh, but his good-natured grin was sexy as hell. "Dime-store romance? See if I ever bare my soul to _you_ again."

A catty grin, a husky, teasing voice borrowed from an old noir film and meant to turn men to putty. "Your soul, your secrets, your body—I can get you to bare them all, and don't you forget it, Takenawa."

'_God _damn_, Hiro…_'

Agreeing with the lust-filled groan of the voice, he hid his surprise a split-second too late, and her grin widened victoriously. He was becoming more and more honest around her, whether that was his intention or not. "But the good news is," she continued matter-of-factly, "that this isn't a one-way street. I'm afraid you're equally equipped to deal with me."

"Oh? Tell me something I don't know," he pressed.

"My favorite color is purple."

"Not a bad color. I'm partial to black."

"You have got to be the first person I've ever met whose favorite color is black. I wonder what that says about you," she ribbed, but he was unflappable.

"It's the absence of light or color, yet in order to produce it, you have to combine all primary colors. Interesting, right?" A hand swept over her perfect, perfect ass, but didn't linger and found its place on her hip again. "Now, tell me something more substantial."

The silence stretched out for several seconds before he heard her murmuring. "I listened to an extraordinary amount of classical music over the past month. Particularly the past two weeks," she admitted, trying to smile. If he didn't know better, he'd say she was flushing, but didn't find her discomfort endearing, so much as distressing. He pulled her close to him in a tight and reassuring embrace.

"So did I. …Would you like your birthday present now? I know it's unforgivably late, but…"

"It's here?" she asked in surprise, pulling back enough to meet his gaze.

"Part of it," he admitted. "I grabbed it when I went back to the house. Though I wasn't sure if it would be in poor taste to give it to you now, or if I should wait, considering the…rather morbid turn of events tonight…"

"No, I want it—not poor taste," she assured him, sitting up quickly to look for any box that he may have placed somewhere before coming to bed.

He chuckled when she started eagerly patting the pockets of his sweats. There was the slight crinkle of paper, and she paused, holding his gaze while reaching into a deep pocket. He nodded when she fingered the thick, coarse paper of a small envelope. Once she'd freed it, she tore into it with unmasked enthusiasm, only to stop short, eyebrows furrowing before inching toward her hairline.

Propping himself up on his elbows, Hiroshi was trying, and failing, to read her expression. He was in an uncomfortable purgatory, and would remain so until she voiced her approval or disappointment in the gift. "Like I said…It's not all of your gift. The rest is—"

"You're taking me to a _show_?" She looked up from the two tickets in her hands, surprise written across her face.

"I thought you might like—"

"Of _course_ I like! Do you have any idea how _long_ I've wanted to go to the theatre?" She stared at the tickets in her hand for a long moment. Two tickets to Tchaikovsky's _Sleeping Beauty_, playing at the New National Theatre. She was unaware of Hiroshi's complete relief as she continued to read the ticket's inscriptions over and over, a soft smile playing at her lips. "Jackson took me once, you know. He must have saved up his money for forever… I was sixteen, and it was just before Christmas, and he took me to see _A Christmas Carol_. Magical, was what it was." She peeked at him through her lashes. "You're pretty decent at picking out gifts, Takenawa."

"I'm glad you think so."

"I'll try to return the favor in a few weeks."

"You mean, you'll do something as mind-numbingly wretched as forget," he countered, a small smile playing at his lips.

Her laughter was husky, and she leaned forward to press her lips to his and felt his palms warm against her skin. "Something like that. Thank you, Hiroshi."

"Hey," he whispered against her lips, pulling back to meet her eyes. "Can you do me a favor?"

Her cheeks rubbed his palms as she nodded.

"Can you just hang out here today while I'm at work? At the very least, Mother, Kannon and Mimi will be here with you until I get back."

"But...I at least need clothes..."

"We'll go to your apartment tonight, together," he promised, and seeing the look on her face, added, "You don't need to be scared, Jules; there's not a safer place on earth than this house right now."

"What about Zooey? Someone needs to let him out and feed him," she reminded after a moment of silence.

"He's already downstairs. I think he's claimed Father's chair for himself."

"You just think of everything," she quipped half-heartedly.

"Of course, I do. But seriously, stay around here today, all right? We'll do something fun when I get back."

When she nodded, he pulled her close, told her to get some sleep, wrapped his arms wrapped around her, chased away her dreams.

And when he left with Inuyasha, barely after the ass-crack of dawn, he left her tangled in his comforter, Zooey now curled at her feet.

* * *

"Am I to understand," the gray Yagami sneered, "that you had _the very key_ to the murders that have plagued us for well over a year in your grasp, and you _disposed of him_?"

Hiroshi refused to rise to the youkai's bait. He was well aware that the elder council member viewed his young age and high title as an affront to his own rank. He could deal with it. Inuyasha, however, had a greater difficulty ignoring the falcon's insults and tone, and often resorted to outright insults and name-calling over the past year.

He placed a hand on his father's bristling shoulder. "I am afraid he left me no choice," was his easy answer.

Yagami leaned back in his leather chair, exchanging pointed glances with the other council members as he steepled his fingers. "And I am afraid you've left me no choice. I am going to have to ask for Hiroshi's immediate resignation in regards to the case. I have suspected it would come to this for several months now, but to ignore this failure would be not only irresponsible, but a grievous oversight on my part."

There was hesitant murmuring around the room from the other members who cast anxious glances toward Hiroshi and his stonewall uncle. Both seemed to handle the news with grace. Rei just looked like he was going to be sick, while the great hanyou looked ready to burst a blood vessel.

"That's a _great_ idea," Inuyasha snapped back with dripping sarcasm, hackles raised from the falcon's condescension. "Let's take a vote on who should be the new lead investigator right in the middle of the worst crime spree we've faced." He stood up, hands supporting his weight as he bore down on the table to throw the youkai across from him a nasty sneer. "Better yet, let's skip the vote altogether, and just hand Hiro's job to _you_. Smart guy like you? You could probably have this whole case solved in _minutes_."

"He is far too young and inexperienced to be running such a high-profile—"

"Inexper…_Inexperienced_?" Inuyasha chuckled incredulously before all signs of mirth vanished altogether, transformed into restrained hostility. "We have been training him since he was _ten years old_. He's a better fucking warrior than _I_ am. Than _Sesshoumaru_ is—"

"Being a better warrior is not in his job description. It's in yours. That he surpasses you is another problem entirely," Yagami countered, pausing to let the threat against Inuyasha's job effectively sink in and pleased when the hanyou looked startled, looked vicious, bared his teeth. "His is problem-solving, and a year later, we _still have a problem_. It has not been solved. He was _handed_ a solution, and he effectively _destroyed_ it!"

A deadly growl erupted from the hanyou, who was otherwise quiet, and all the more menacing for it. "Don't interrupt me, fucker. I wasn't done."

"Inuyasha," Sesshoumaru warned quietly, imperceptible gaze still settled on the falcon. "Calm yourself."

Hiroshi cast an uncomfortable glance towards Rei, who still looked ill—ill and irritated, before addressing Yagami for the first time sense the youkai declared him inadequate. "If the Council would feel more comfortable if I step down as lead investigator in this case, I will." When Inuyasha started to interrupt, Hiroshi paused him with a hand. "Of course, I will still continue to follow and investigate this case. It is _my_ case, and I am the only one that has had any sort of contact with the group in question. You want me to step down, let someone else take the reigns, submit to technicalities? I will. Gladly. You want me to back off completely? Out of the question."

"And your thoughts, Sesshoumaru?" Yagami asked coolly with a tight smile at Hiroshi.

Sesshoumaru cleared his throat and managed to look bored and disdainful at the same time. "I am unsure what you ask of me, Yagami. You want Hiroshi to step down, but who should replace him? Who is _qualified_ to replace him? No, Hiroshi remains lead investigator and interrogator, and you will stop wasting my time with matters that do not, in the end, matter in the least. What's done is done. It was unfortunate, but necessary to protect the life of an innocent."

The youkai hummed his disapproval, lips pressed thin into a firm frown. "I fear you are blinded by nepotism, my lord."

The tai youkai shot him a slanted, thin-eyed glare, chilling the blood of the entire council and evoking the sound and image of the warning rattle before the fatal venomous strike of a snake. "You grow too bold, Yagami. Do not forget to whom you are speaking."

"Of course, my lord. Apologies. But there are many youkai in your ranks that would be better suited to the job than such a young hanyou. There is much to be said about your…esteemed brother, as well. He is far too brash and ignorant, and I fear he may be more detrimental to the case than you realize."

Inuyasha was stunned into laughter, arched brows betraying his incredulity at the elder member's audacity. He opened his mouth, but before he could speak-

"Even with their _human blood_," Rei admonished archly, picking up on the implied prejudice, "their pedigree is higher than yours, Yagami. I urge you not to forget that, and I would also have you remember who, exactly, it was that brought about the end of _Naraku_. I do not believe it was you, who cowered in the southern lands, as I understand it."

And with Rei's slight, the Falcon purpled with hatred, was shamed, and acknowledged the implication that he would never exceed the station he held currently—was lucky to hold this much power, was easily replaceable.

"Now we've wasted enough time on trivial matters which we cannot change." Rei's eyes, fierce and irritated now, found Hiroshi's, and he nodded. "Continue."

Hiroshi returned his nod and looked back at the quieted council. "I was saying that I tried to keep him alive, but when he turned his attention to another would-be defenseless victim, I was forced to wound him fatally. Before he succumbed to his injuries," he continued, bending the truth for the sake of Sesshoumaru's sword, " I was able to interrogate him briefly. He referred to himself and his fled companion as 'Gabriel.' Since he later referred to himself as a messenger, as well, I believe he is talking about the Christian archangel of the same name that served as God's messenger."

"Then he had a message, I presume?" one of the younger councilmen asked.

"Yes. I believe it is their intention to bring about a new age of youkai, and by extension, hanyou willing to embrace their youki, I suppose. All humans are not only expendable but are threats to the world they are aiming to create. At the very least, we are facing a world where humans are forced to acknowledge our existence, which would be detrimental for a vast number of reasons—one being that we are the 'other.' Stronger, faster, _dangerous_. There will be reactionaries that demand our blood without prejudice out of fear. I mean a war. This, if we do not destroy this faction and soon, will be the lesser of our worries, as their aim appears to be the genocide of humanity."

Urgent murmuring filled the room, and Hiroshi felt a caustic glare on him, and met Yagami's hate-filled eyes, the voice in his head growling its response. There were very few people who openly hated him, if any—he struggled to think of one, but couldn't. Yagami and his blatant disapproval made him uncomfortable, but he'd never allow the falcon that knowledge. He met his gaze boldly, did not waver, but offered the barest of smiles.

"Were you at least able to identify the body before he was disposed of?"

"Unfortunately, no. His blood died with him when he disintegrated into ashes." If Inuyasha or Sesshoumaru were surprised by his brazen lie, neither gave it away. He broke contact with Yagami to glance at each face around the table. "And I'm afraid that is all I'm able to tell you."

Sesshoumaru nodded once before he turned his attention to the file before him. "You are dismissed."

Hiroshi waited until the last of the council members had filed out of the room, the secretary closing the soundproof doors behind them before he turned to his uncle, all pleasant pretenses dropped. "We ran _Gabriel's_ prints through the system. Nothing turned up. We resorted to using a blood sample—no matches. He simply doesn't exist." He saw Inuyasha's jaw clench, saw Rei shoot a pregnant glance at the immovable taisho.

Sesshoumaru did not look up from his file. "That is impossible. He obviously existed. Run him through again."

"No, you don't understand; we _did_. We double and triple checked the results. He is not in the system."

With a sigh, Sesshoumaru lifted his gaze. "And your explanation?"

"There are a few possibilities," Hiroshi hedged. "Through some fluke, he could have been born and raised here illegally, under our radar, having never been registered. This could have been his first incident. Another possibility is a computer or employee error. A file got misplaced, lost, accidentally deleted. But there are safety nets for issues such as these."

"So you do not believe this to be the case," Sesshoumaru stated, and Hiroshi could see the weariness settling over him as he could guess the only remaining possibility.

"We have to consider the possibility that _Gabriel_ was registered, and one of your employees with access to the system deliberately deleted his file."

"That could explain our lack of luck with identifying any of the past aggressors," Rei murmured. "Assuming that others have been deleted. Any chance of retrieving the file if that's the case? There's no back-up procedure for this kind of situation?"

"They were very thorough. If that's that case," Hiroshi allowed after a moment, though he _knew_. His _gut_ knew - he was right.

Sesshoumaru was silent for a moment before he lifted himself out of his chair. "I want a list of everyone who has clearance to that computer. You are to question each one personally, Hiroshi. I need to know if there's a traitor among us. If you suspect an employee, you have my permission to use any means necessary to confirm." And without further ado, he strode through the great doors.

Heaving a sigh, Inuyasha watched him go, Rei on his heels, before turning to his son. "Got your work cut out for you, pup."

Hiroshi offered a tired smile, rubbing the back of his neck. "So much for a quiet weekend. But this…if I'm right about this… It could be the break we've been waiting for."

"God, but that would be too good to be true. …How's the girl?"

"Safe. Asleep when I left her."

There was a tension in his features, and his father clasped his shoulder with gruff comfort. "They don't work in the daytime, Hiro. And you'll be there at night. 'Girl's fine."

"They went to Rei's house in the daytime," he reminded his father quietly.

"Yeah, well, Rei doesn't have your badass mother at his house, does he? If someone's dumb enough to attack _my_ house in broad daylight on a _weekend_, they got 'Gome to deal with, and I feel sorry for 'em."

Hiroshi's smile was barely there as he shook his head. If there was anyone more powerful than Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru, than Hiroshi, himself, it was absolutely his mother. "Guess I should, too. Thanks. Guess I'd better get to work."

"After you get that damned list together, before you start questioning people, let's take an hour for lunch, pick up some food and surprise your mother and the others. I know I sure am going to need a break by then. Figured you might want to come along, yeah? 'nd, you know, make sure Kannon's not bothering Julia."

He bit his lip at the temptation. "I _really_ don't have time…" he hedged, and was met with an unimpressed, distinctly bored look by his father. "Well…I _do_ have to eat."

"Damn _right_, you do."

"And it is the weekend. A short lunch break wouldn't hurt, I suppose."

"Those computer geeks will still be around when you get back," his father agreed. "Where the-hell-else are they gonna go? Outside? Pfft."

"You're a terrible influence," Hiroshi informed him with a sigh. "I see where Kan gets it from."

Inuyasha laughed, never one to be too upset by any comparison between himself and his youngest hellion. "Don't make me beat you before the day's even begun. Now go. Get to work, or Sesshoumaru will have both our asses."

* * *

Julia's morning was not proving to be much better.

She awoke with a jolt, choking on nightmares and a scream of terror when she felt someone crouching over her, breathing on her, its fur tickling her nose. Her eyes made out a dark silhouette eclipsed in the bright sunlight, inches from her face, and she panicked before her vision could even adjust.

Scuttling back with a gasp that made her dizzy, she braced herself against the wall before planting her feet against the beast's chest as it reached out for her, made to grab her arms. As flesh touched flesh, she shoved with all her might, heard a cry, but couldn't make it out over the thundering in her ears. There was pain, there was terror and confusion, and the thing was kicked off of her, fell from the bed, and she could only try to scramble further away, frantic now as a series of ferocious and then hesitant growls and whines broke through her panicked haze.

"_Hiro_!" The name was desperate as it escaped her lips a half sob, half scream.

"_Julia_!" Hands were on her now, holding her steady before she could topple off the bed herself, and a hand forced her chin up to meet familiar eyes. Gold. Gold, but not Hiroshi. Kannon held her now, told her everything was all right, told her, "Calm down, it's just us."

Her breathing was rapid and loud, shuddering, and she tried to make sense of what was happening and separate the nightmares from the reality. Her eyes darted Zooey, hackles raised but unsure of how to handle the situation as he hovered over a stunned figure collapsed in a heap on the floor. Kimiko was avoiding eye contact with the anxious puppy, instead staring at her, hurt, confused, and ashamed.

"I didn't mean to scare you…" she whispered, not yet daring to right herself from her spot on the floor. "I was just going to wake you up and say 'hi.'"

As understanding dawned on her, Julia's adrenaline was depleted, leaving her exhausted, with the aftershock of pure panic leaving pinpricks under her skin. "Oh," she breathed out in relief. "I thought you were… I was having a nightmare," she offered, apologetically. "Zooey, what are you doing? Come here." She patted the mattress and the dog obediently sprang onto it, curling up and settling at her feet.

"Ah, fuck…" Kannon bit out, carefully grabbing and twisting Julia's arm to examine the deep red grooves as blood spiraled down onto the bed. "You got her pretty deep, Mimi. _Fuck_!" he swore again. "Hiro's going to flip a shit."

"I didn't mean to!" Kimiko was crying now, still in a pile on the floor. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!"

Julia looked from the angry scratches to the guilt-ridden girl, remembering she must have claws like her brother. When Julia kicked her away, she must not have been able to release her fast enough in her shock. "Oh, Mimi, it's fine, really. I probably won't even need stitches," she assured her.

There was a hiccupped sob, and the girl finally moved, burying her face in her hands before remembering there was some of Julia's skin under her claws. "No, it's not fine! Hiro's going to _kill_ me—I didn't mean to scratch you," she promised again.

"Hiro's not going to kill you, Mimi," Kannon sighed, releasing Julia's arm and moving to sit back on the edge of the bed. "I'll try to find Mama. Maybe he'll never even know."

She shot him a tear-filled, red-eyed glare and sniffled angrily. "Her blood is on his bedspread, of _course_ he'll _know_!"

"Oi! Enough cryin'. It's not going to make Jules stop bleeding. Now…you gonna help me fix her up or not?" He smirked at Julia, and she realized how much she'd missed it in her absence. "You're going to have to put on a brave face and let us doctor you until Mama's available. Not the kind of doctor I usually like to play, but I guess this will have to do for now." He chuckled when Julia flung a pillow at him, but sobered when her blood splattered him as well. "That doesn't hurt?"

"It's beginning to," she admitted, before glancing at Mimi and quickly adding, "but not bad."

"Right then—to the bathroom. Mimi, why don't you try Mama's cell? We should have hours before Hiro gets back."

And once the two were inside the tiled room, first-aid kit opened on the counter, and wounds ready to sterilize, Kannon grinned. "This could get messy. May want to, you know, lose the shirt?"

"Yeah, you know, I think I'd rather not," she retorted, and her comment bounced off with a careless shrug.

"Suit yourself, princess. But let me know when you change your mind."

She scoffed, but winced when he cleansed the cuts with alcohol. He cringed in sympathy, and tried to be as careful as possible, which was endearing. Again, she was struck by how much she missed the twins while she was avoiding Hiroshi.

"Thanks," she told him, and meant it.

He laughed. "Oh, we know you're tough enough for a few little scratches. This is for our own skins, which Hiro will have when he finds out," he teased. Sobering after she rolled her eyes, Kannon muttered, "But this isn't how we planned it to happen. …Mimi lost her shit when she realized you were here. She pushed me out of bed and made me help her make you brunch before waking you up. …She missed you."

A smile toyed on her lips. "That's one of the sweetest things I've ever heard. I missed her, too. You…not so much," she teased, and he nudged her ribs in retaliation. "So I have brunch waiting on me?"

His fingers worked rapidly, as he concentrated on wrapping her bandage now. "Yep."

"And you and Kimiko are both hanyou?"

The fingers paused in their work for a brief second before she caught his eye in the mirror's reflection. But then he'd lowered his gaze and his fingers were moving again. "Yep."

"Have you ever fought a youkai?"

There was a flash of a fang as he ripped the bandage from it's spool before making sure it would not unravel, but it was gone in an instant, so that she might have imagined it, had she not known it to be there.

'_An illusion,_' she remembered, and considered asking where his charm was.

"Yep."

"A real fight?"

He was done now, watching her in the mirror again. "What do you mean?"

"Out for blood," she clarified, and his brows furrowed. He looked wholly like his father in that instance, and she was struck.

He grabbed her other arm, and began to wrap it as well. "No. Not really my thing. When did Hiro tell you?"

She was relieved, unable to imagine the careless, lazy, and fun boy in the role of the efficient killing machine. He didn't seem capable of it. She couldn't see it in Kimiko, either. But then again, she also couldn't see it in their mother, but knew it must be there from the stories.

"I found out yesterday. One showed up last night," she murmured quietly, and he must have paused when she averted her gaze.

"What do you mean?" he asked again.

"A youkai. He showed up last night. He was…this huge wolf. I don't even know how to explain it."

There was a moment of silence that stretched on for eternity before Kannon cleared his throat. "An old friend of Hiro's?" he asked, a weak attempt at avoiding the tension. "What'd he do?"

"Attacked Hiro. _Tried_ to attack me. Hiro got to him first, though."

There was another moment of silence before Kannon's eyes fell back down to the arm he was wrapping and it dawned on him exactly how touchy his brother may be today. "Ah, _fuck_," he reiterated, before flashing another lazy smirk at the woman. "Well. It's been nice knowing you."

* * *

It didn't take hours for Hiroshi and Inuyasha to return after all. In fact, there wasn't even time to warn Kimiko that the elder brother may be sensitive today.

The moment Hiroshi stepped inside the house, he was running, bounding up the stairs—before he even realized why. And then his mind caught up with him. '_Blood_,' it said. '**Her** _blood_.'

Not a deadly amount, but enough.

He ignored his bedroom, the main source of the blood stench, and headed for the bathroom. She was there, alive, with Kannon. Kannon wasn't injured. No one, other than Julia, was injured. No one unwanted was here, nor had they been here. All of this registered before he burst in. He was silent as he met their gazes, took in their surprise, and he was silent as he grabbed the arm closest to him, where Julia was already beginning to bleeding through the thin layer of bandages.

She saw something dangerous pass behind his eyes

"What happened?"

Kannon was nervous. Even Julia could tell, but he opened his mouth before she could explain, before she could think of a way to wave the accident away as inconsequential. "Chill, Hiro. It was an accident," was all he got out before he was slammed against the wall of the bathroom, Hiroshi pinning him with an arm barred against his throat, cutting off his air supply. It happened so fast, Julia couldn't even scream. She was pulled out of the line of fire by Inuyasha, who now had a hand on Hiro's shoulder, prying him away from Kannon, whose hands wrapped around his throat protectively.

"Oi! I told you before—if you fight, it's outside."

"I don't want to fight," Hiroshi spat, glaring at his now-riled brother. "I want him to _think_ for once and realize that she's _human_. I want him to realize that _accidents_ can't happen. You idiot…_what if you'd hit an artery_? How the _fuck_ does something like this even _happen_?" He was seething as Kannon mounted his defense.

"Oh, please, Hiro. Spare me. I _didn't_ hit an artery," he argued, returning his brother's glare. "I was waking her up, and I scared her. She pushed me away before I could let go. Shit happens."

Julia had wormed her way between them, now aware that Kannon intended to take the blame for Kimiko. "Hiroshi, you need to back off," she told him firmly, gently. "This was no one's fault. I had a bad dream and woke up swinging. He couldn't have expected it."

His jaw was still set, and she could make out a muscle twitching before he finally relented and lowered his dangerous scowl from his brother to study the determined woman silently. He held out a hand. "Can I see?"

"Are you going to freak out again?"

"Julia…"

She hesitated at his impatient sigh before finally holding out her arm for him. His forced smile was small but assuring, and she gave a nod before he began to unwrap the gauze.

"Damnit, Kannon…" he sighed again, sending a pointed frown at his brother. "She needs stitches. Why haven't you taken her to Mother yet?" Within seconds, her arm was bandaged again.

"I just talked to her," Mimi whispered, suddenly at the door with a cell phone still clutched in her hand, puffy eyes trained on the floor. "She's on her way back from the store. …I'm sorry, Julia."

The pieces fell into place for both Inuyasha and Hiroshi, and the former shot Hiroshi a pointed look, though Hiroshi's impulsive anger had already been spent. "It was an accident, they both feel bad, and Julia will be good as new in minutes. If you yell at Mimi, then we'll have a problem," Inuyasha warned.

"Yes, we will," the young woman agreed, catching the tired look her boyfriend sent her way.

"I'm going to have to start wrapping you in bubble wrap, it seems," he tried to tease, still unable to shake off his uneasiness.

But Julia appreciated his effort, and smiled. "Oh, you could try. But I'm afraid I'd leave gouges all over you that would put these to shame."

"I'd hold his arms for you," Inuyasha offered on his way out of the bathroom. "By the way, food's here, and it's getting cold. Everyone get your asses downstairs. Except for Julia and Hiro. No tracking blood across the damn house. I'll send your mother up as soon as she gets here."

The pair watched everyone file down the hallway, heard the thumping of their feet down the stairs, where brunch and takeout were waiting for them.

Hiroshi's frown was thoughtful as he turned his attention back to Julia, who seemed keen to pretend she didn't realize he would want to talk to her now. Not that he could really blame her. She had seen him lose his temper a bit too often of late. And more than once, she took the brunt of his sharp tongue. More than once, she had witnessed him resort to violence.

And he had to wonder when this transition from a stable person with extraordinary self control to a short-fused, volatile ass had begun to occur.

'_What are you doing to me?_' His musing was curious, rather than accusatory, and it was taken by surprise.

'_Relax, kid. I haven't touched the controls since last night. An' that shit was necessary, I don't care what you say._'

'_I know. I shouldn't have snapped at you. If you hadn't—_'

There was a disgusted scoff, and it was distinctly uncomfortable now. '_If you go soft on me now, I might just have to work my magic to kick your ass. We're not friends. Get that straight right now. And Jules is just a girl. But you need her, whether you've figured it out yet or not. Which means, I need her. Self-preservation, and all that shit.'_

Hiroshi wasn't yet ready to delve deeper into that reality yet. Of course he knew it, or was beginning to know, but now wasn't the time. He'd cross that bridge later. '_You say that, but you care. Don't pretend you don't._'

It was quiet for a few beats. '_Between this and that bullshit kickboxing course, can we just agree that Mimi and Jules have built a friendship on pain?_' it quipped, sounding oddly relieved even though Julia was still fucking bleeding. The change of topic was all the confirmation that Hiroshi needed.

'_I'm beginning to believe my family and I are far more detrimental to her well-being than her father ever could be._'

'_I don't know about that…_

"It smells like we have a feast waiting for us," Julia told him, breaking the long silence in a bright attempt to dissolve the tension.

He appreciated her efforts, and brushed her cheek with the back of his knuckles.

"…Today was not a good day to come home to the scent of spilled blood."

She rolled her eyes at his seriousness. His eyes were bright, full of racing thoughts, and he wasn't smiling now, but he wasn't frowning either. "Because there was something I could have done about that. It was an accident, Hiroshi. Mimi was crying, she felt so guilty."

And he didn't know how to make her understand… But he watched the bandages on her arm brighten with blood, and knew he had to try. "I know it wasn't your fault. And I know accidents happen. But I'm not human, and you have to realize that, too. A part of me will always be primal—a part, always animalistic. I don't know how else to describe it. I feel…very protective when it comes to you. It clouds my judgment. I'm still learning how to deal with it. Try to understand that."

He watched her chew thoughtfully on her lip. "But you'd never actually hurt someone like Kannon over something as small as a scratch, right? You have more control than that."

His smile was wan. "Of course not. He's an ass, but he's my brother."

"I have one like that, too," she joked quietly. "You said a part of you is primal. Have you ever…well…transformed?"

She could knock him down with a feather. "Into a full youkai, you mean?"

Hiroshi's surprise was written across his face, but he controlled it quickly enough when he seemed to grasp what she was asking. "Well, yeah… Your dad's transformed before, right? It was in the story, at least."

"Yeah… Yeah, he did. It's nothing he's proud of, though. And I've never… Neither has Mimi or Kan. Or Miroku, for that matter. It was never really common—even back in the feudal era, when times were more desperate." He thought about it for a moment, about the time he'd lost his temper, about how he could stop it at any moment, and knew that he'd been hanyou at the time. He hadn't lied to her. He'd never transformed into a youkai. But he could be a monster, all the same. "Honestly, I'm not even sure if we can transform, what with Mother's blood running through us."

She seemed satisfied with that answer. "See? I like this. I like you answering my questions, and answering them honestly." She raised herself to her tiptoes to kiss the corner of his mouth. "It's not so bad, is it?"

"We'll see," he teased, looking over her shoulder, beyond the doorway when he heard his mother open the front door. "All right. Time to get you fixed up, so we can eat. I'm going to have to head back to work soon."

* * *

The elevator pinged as it reached the forty-seventh floor, and moments later opened to reveal rich, wine colored walls lit warmly by the light of the sconces.

'_Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God…_'

She was frozen, couldn't move. The doors began to close again, but a deft hand held them open, and she was nudged forward and sent stumbling into the hall. She'd never been in a place so beautiful.

'_Oh, God, oh, God—_'

Behind her, one of them snickered—the other brother. They were nearly indistinguishable, but for the fact that one of them never smiled. Or spoke. She wondered if he had the ability to. There was a soft 'woosh' of the elevator doors closing behind her, abandoning her here, in this exquisite hell.

"Move."

She didn't think she had the ability.

There was a heavy, irritated sigh behind her, and the other brother spoke for his impatient, silent twin. "You think eet's vise to keep 'eem vaiting?"

And then she was walking on limbs of rubber through an infinitely long hallway, the muscle-bound foreign twins escorting her. They were just so cliché, it was horrifying. And she was going to die. That was pretty damn terrifying, too.

A woman in a professional pencil skirt and heels passed them with a smile, confused when her eyes roved over the small youkai, who looked like she'd be better suited in a parole office meeting her officer than in such a nice plaza like this where people were expected to wear suits and ties.

She didn't even bother to smile back. She knew the twins wouldn't either.

And fuck, would this hallway _ever end_?

But ahead there was a desk positioned along a wall, perpendicular to great mahogany double doors, and she wished the hallway was just a little longer.

The receptionist didn't even look up from her computer as the twins approached. She just reached over to press a button, informing someone that, "They're here." With a graceful flourish that barely interrupted her typing, she gestured to the doors beside her, and the twins nudged the youkai forward again.

'_Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God._'

The great doors were opened, and she was suddenly in a room lined with bookcases, a long desk opposite her. To her great dismay, her legs gave out, and it was the rough and painful grasp that the silent twin had on her bicep that kept her upright.

And then the human was talking.

"Well, Sesta! I was wondering if your flight would lead you back to me." He smiled pleasantly, and her blood ran cold. "Did you enjoy your short vacation? I certainly hope we didn't interrupt anything important."

"I'm sorry." She didn't know what else to say.

He looked surprised. There was mock and contempt on his face, and she balked. "Oh? What on earth for?"

"Barrel is dead."

"Ah. That. So I've heard."

"…I'm sorry," she repeated.

His deep chuckling bounced off the mahogany walls and rich wooden desk. "And why is that? Did you honestly believe Barrel would successfully kill the hanyou?"

The kite shifted uncomfortably, and made a conscious effort not to fidget with her hands under his impenetrable gaze. Failing to meet his expectations would be a deadly mistake. She'd heard stories, and she was expendable. They were _all_ expendable, and always would be as long as they did not mutiny in unison. But she alone was so incredibly unsuccessful in her attack. Not only did they not destroy the target intended, but her partner had died in his stead. Maybe it should have been her.

Probably. Probably it should have been her.

She studied the human, acutely aware of the twin youkai behind her, barring the exit. She could kill him if she had to, she supposed. But to do so would mean instant death at the hands of the twins.

"Um… no, I guess not."

"You are so _nervous_, Sesta. You are allowed to laugh. This is a humorous matter, after all."

Humorous? She'd been told that Barrel had been bisected. Her arms wrapped themselves protectively and awkwardly around her churning, already emptied stomach, and she managed a brief, insincere smile. "Yes."

His smirk, so cruel and condescending, died on his lips, and his face was iron—cold and unrelenting. She heard the hum of danger in the air around her, and she knew one thing at that moment: Kenji Ikeda, human, was a monster. "So laugh, then," he demanded.

"W-what?"

"I told you to laugh. The one you call Barrel was killed by the hanyou. Of course, he was never going to be able to kill him alone. The idea is laughable. So laugh."

Fear shot through her spine, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see the guards behind her shift, reposition the guns that seemed to have materialized from thin air. So she laughed, a shrill, desperate sound.

Ikeda cut her off with an upturned palm, suddenly bored with her. She was relieved as he turned his attention back to the log filled with names and red ink. "Tell me what you know."

"There was a woman with him. I believe he's taken a mate."

His eyes flicked to her for the briefest second. "Impossible. I would have been informed."

She began to fish around in the satchel at her side. "I, um…I have her shirt." She produced the thin blue garment and held it up for him to see.

He looked bored. Exasperated and bored. "And what am I to do with this?"

She was baffled by his indifference. "You…you can have her tracked, sir. If she is his mate, then you can kill him by killing her. Or use her against him."

He sat back in his chair, regarding the young, slight woman again. Her short hair framed her round face with spikes, and she was so thin, her bones looked hollow. "It seems I am forever underestimating how very similar to animals you are. Track, indeed. Very well. Find out who she is."

Sesta slumped in relief at the dismissal, and turned to leave before his voice stayed her. "And what of the heir's family?"

She was confused for a moment that Ikeda had confused her for someone who was apparently well-informed before she realized he was addressing one of the twins behind her. "Zey've been vell hidden. But vee continue to search for zem."

God, but they were just so cliché. She was surprised that one of them didn't bear an eye-patch or a nasty scar across the face.

"See that you do. He wants the entire family at his mercy. And you don't want to disappoint him, do you?"

The silent one nodded his understanding.

"Very well. Leave me. Relieve Sesta of her burden, and take her to safety. Then bring me the name of the hanyou's new daughter-in-law. I'm sure he'll want to know all about it."

By nightfall, Sesta's ashes, in a heap in a forest, gleamed silver in the dappled moonlight. One of their failures.

Of course she couldn't be allowed to live.

* * *

_Well. I hope that was worth the wait. Just kidding, I know it wasn't. But it's a bridge chapter, and they are necessary. Unfortunately not always fun or easy to write, and so they take me forever because they're dumb. Anyways, I really do appreciate all of the lovely, lovely encouraging reviews. Every time I saw a new one, I was inspired to try to force through my writer's block and write just a little bit more._

_They really do make a world of difference to me. And I love you all! The next chapter won't take 16 months, I promise! I'll aim for 8 this time!_

_I kid, I kid. See you cool cats soon._

* * *

_**Quotes of Randomness:**_

"_The reasonable man adapts himself to the world; the unreasonable one persists in trying to adapt the world to himself. Therefore all progress depends on the unreasonable man." - __**Maxims for Revolutionists**__ by George Bernard Shaw. This should be the motto of the 'Lullaby Slayers'/Uprising._

_"There will come a time when all of us are dead. All of us. There will come a time when there are no human beings remaining to remember that anyone ever existed or that our species ever did anything. there will be no one left to remember Aristotle or Cleopatra, let alone you. Everything will be forgotten and all of this will have been for naught. Maybe that time is coming soon and maybe it is millions of years away, but even if we survive the collapse of our sun, we will not survive forever. There was a time before organisms experienced consciousness, and there will be a time after. And if the inevitability of human oblivion worries you, I encourage you to ignore it. God knows that's what everyone else does." - __**The Fault in Our Stars**__ by John Green_


End file.
